


Knocked Out

by ros3bud009



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, Language Barrier, M/M, Slow Burn, barbarian au, friendly teasing, mild robot gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2018-10-31 06:52:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 52,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10894023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ros3bud009/pseuds/ros3bud009
Summary: And so there Breakdown found himself, with an injured barbarian in his arms who turned those dazzling crimson optics towards him, and for a split second Breakdown felt as if it was his knees that were injured because boy did they feel weak.Barbarian AU where the citymech unwittingly does the kidnapping.





	1. Chapter 1

It always amused Breakdown that when he told people about his work, they never pointed out the _actually_ hard parts. He could tell countless stories about construction site accidents, about when jobs would dry up for months at a time and he would have to scrape by until the boss would finally call with his next assignment, and about never having one city to call home because he was damned lucky if the next job happened to be in the same city as the last.

But no. Every time, mecha of all shapes and sizes would gape at him and ask about the dangers of travelling outside the walls of civilization.

And they never did believe Breakdown when he told them that he had never, in all his functioning, even seen a barbarian, let alone been attacked by one.

But it was the truth. Breakdown and his coworkers had traveled from city to city for construction jobs more times than any of them could count, and not a one of them had dealt with any barbarians. The simple fact was that despite the rumors and old-mecha tales, barbarians generally avoided roads used by city mecha. Most parties on those roads were armed to the dentae with every type of weapon they could afford, so they weren’t exactly easy prey. The few attacks that Breakdown had heard about were cargo shipments, where the reward actually outweighed the risk.

But a group of big, hulking construction bots travelling with just the base necessities?

No mecha would risk fighting them for so little, barbarian or otherwise.

Inevitably, when Breakdown would explain this, somebody would crack a joke about how a barbarian might want to drag one of them away to be their mate.

“Me? A kidnapped mate? Have you even _seen_ me? It’d take a whole tribe of them to even carry me! Two if they decided to go for Bulk here!”

And Bulkhead would laugh himself hoarse every time because the very idea of dozens of barbarians trying to lift his huge aft off the ground and away to be their communal conjunx always ticked his funny strut just right.

Barbarians were the least of Breakdown’s worries.

* * *

“What the scrap is that?”

Breakdown glanced over to see Scavenger in his root form and looking down into the ravine they were driving by.

“Probably nothing, like everything else you get distracted by,” Scrapper grumbled. Hook’s engine rumbled in agreement as his hook snagged the closest piece of Scavenger’s frame he could reach and tugged him away from the ledge. “Stop slowing us down.”

“Hey, frag off!” Scavenger snapped as he dug in his pedes and squirmed to try to escape the hook dragging him away. “I mean it! There’s mecha down there!”

“What in the pits would anyone be doing down there?” Bonecrusher said dismissively

“You’re seeing things,” Longhaul agreed.

“Maybe if you’d actually look around for once you’d see something too, ya glitches!”

The constructicons looked to be ready to start another idiotic argument when Bulkhead transformed and walked over to the ledge himself and Breakdown followed. It was best to just confirm or deny Scavenger’s story to nip the yelling match in the bud.

Breakdown had assumed deny until he leaned just enough to look down.

“ _Scrap_ ,” Breakdown muttered under his breath. Indeed, a long ways down the ledge was level ground where about ten larger mecha were leading a group of four smaller frames. It was hard to see much from the distance, but there was no mistaking the way the larger frames surrounded the smaller ones, forcing them forward along their hidden path. Cycling his optics to try to get a better look revealed what looked like they might be shackles and chains connecting the prisoners to each other.

“Those gotta be barbarians, right?” Scavenger asked, staring over the ledge now that he had been released. The rest of the constructicons were finding their own places to look over from, argument forgotten.

“Can’t think of any city mecha stupid enough to stray far from the roads.”

“You think the little ones too? Or you think they were from an attacked party?”

“Don’t be stupid! They’re not carrying any energon or anything, so why attack city mecha who didn’t have any goods? Gotta be different tribes.”

“Unless maybe they took them to be mates?”

“Nobody got any proof any city mech was dragged off to mate, you moron.”

“Breakdown?”

“Yeah, Bulk?” he replied, glancing over to see Bulkhead’s typically jovial expression hardened as he stared down.

“We gotta go down there and save them.”

Breakdown’s optics cycled wide as he said, “You wanna get us killed?”

“No, but I can’t just let whatever’s happening go without helping,” Bulkhead insisted as he straightened up onto his pedes. “You gonna help?”

With a heavy ex-vent, Breakdown grumbled, “You’re heroics are gonna get us killed someday.”

“Nah. There’s nobody strong enough to take on the two of us,” Bulkhead insisted as he pounded his fist into his other servo with a smile on his face.

Breakdown couldn’t help a small grin in return at that, and was about to reply when Bulkhead was already moving. He grabbed Hook by the mechanisms on his back, whirling him around until he was facing away from the ravine. “Hey, guys, hold onto Hook for us, would you? And Break, you hold onto this,” Bulkhead insisted as he pulled on Hook’s namesake and held it out to Breakdown.

“What the frag are you–?”

As soon as the constructicons had gathered around Hook, their expressions as puzzled as Breakdown’s, Bulkhead grasped onto the wire just above the hook with one servo while yanking Breakdown by the shoulder.

Yanking him back and over the edge of the cliff.

Breakdown shouted a curse and clung to the hook as suddenly he and Bulkhead were barreling downward, their descent only slowed by the speed that Hook’s wire released. It could have been called rappelling if they weren’t going so fragging _fast_. Not to mention the fact that the only reason they weren’t hurtling towards possible death was because the constructicons had to have all taken a hold of Hook to keep him from being pulled off the ledge with Breakdown and Bulkhead’s combined weight.

All of the mecha at the rapidly approaching bottom of the ravine were staring up at them now in what Breakdown could only imagine was horror.

The wire jolted to a halt, the impact feeling as if Breakdown’s arm was being yanked off his frame, but his grip held firm long enough to ride it out before letting go to drop the last bit to the ground.

And bitter as he was about the stunt, Breakdown had to give it to Bulkhead – the almost thunderous clap of their heavy frames as they landed was _incredible_.

Better yet, it was definitely as intimidating as it felt considering the way the barbarian’s optics were wide and bright enough that you might have thought they were looking at the Unmaker himself.

Up close, they were nearly as tall as he was, but their frames were much slimmer, probably half his weight. All of their plating was dull tones that blended with the environment, and around their waists and shoulders there was fabric slung and knotted to stay in place. By all accounts the very definition of barbarians. Their prisoners, on the other hand, were brightly painted and shiny, though with obvious blemishes from the scuffle that found them here. No fabric on them either. No doubt they were indeed city mecha.

“Alright guys,” Bulkhead started, straightening up and staring down the barbarians, “let’s just make this easy. Let them go and nobody needs to get hurt.”

“Unless you want to, in which case, we’d be happy to oblige you,” Breakdown added, shifting his servo into a hammer and swinging it warningly.

Unfortunately, the words were apparently meaningless as the tall barbarians looked at each other, chittering something Breakdown couldn’t understand, before raising their weapons.

Their very gun-like weapons.

“Slaggit.”

One of the barbarians shouted something at them, no doubt to back off. Breakdown looked sideways at Bulkhead and muttered, “You got any other big ideas?”

“You go for the prisoners, I’ll try to fight them off, and hopefully some of the cons’ get down here to help?”

“Fine. But next time _I_ make the plans.”

“Job’s all yours.”

And just that like, the situation exploded into chaos.

Breakdown had to dodge out of the way of a shot, rolling closer to the prisoners and hoping that the barbarians would be dissuaded from using guns when they were in danger of shooting each other or their prisoners in such close range. It must have worked since instead of a muzzle in his face there was a fist, and fist fighting was much more his forte. With a swing of his hammer and the satisfying crunch of metal against faceplates, Breakdown sent the barbarian flying back. The second barbarian jumped him fast enough that Breakdown had to settle for elbowing him _hard_ and watching the mech stumble back with servos pressed to his abdomen, the plating there denting in towards more delicate wiring and tanks.

Normally Breakdown would have taken the chance to finish the job, but considering the other barbarians were busy with Bulkhead, this was his chance. So he grabbed the shackles of the mech closest to him – the poor guy stared up at him with the widest, brightest optics – and shouted, “Come with me!” as he pulled and started to run from the fray.

Luckily, the mech was quick to follow, along with the others behind him.

Double lucky was overhearing Bonecrusher’s whooping followed by the shrieking crunch of his frame, true to his name, crushing a barbarian under his weight. Backup had made it right on time.

However, where Breakdown had hoped there would be a turn or really anywhere to take cover with the prisoners, there was just straight flat metal earth and sheer cliff walls. That left him with few options beyond just getting far enough away from the fight that he hoped the barbarians wouldn’t turn their focus back on him while he worked.

So finally he stopped, and quickly had to dig in his pedes when the prisoners tried to keep running. And damn, they were small, but they had some of the most powerful legs Breakdown had ever encountered considering they nearly pulled him over with the velocity of their escape.

“Whoa, wait, wait!” Breakdown hissed, holding firm, even when the prisoners all turned and glared at him. He kept his free servo gripping the chain while gently waving his hammer servo. “Let me get those off of you first, yeah?”

They still just stared at him and at his hammer before turning to each other. And that was when Breakdown noticed they weren’t speaking in common Cybertronian. In fact, for all his travels, he couldn’t quite place their language at all. There were few places he hadn’t been, so his best guess was maybe they were speaking Vosian. They weren’t flyers though from what he could see, but they were certainly all pretty enough.

The red one turned to look at him, brilliant crimson optics looking him up and down while his finely sculpted faceplate shifted with consideration.

Definitely pretty enough to be Vosians. This one in particular was possibly one of the prettiest mecha Breakdown had ever seen.

Talk about unfortunate circumstance.

Whatever the red mech saw convinced him as he turned back towards his comrades and said something, and the first mech in the line – a blue mech with a distrusting look on his face – ex-vented sharply before holding his servos out towards Breakdown.

“Fragging finally,” Breakdown said before grabbing the servos and tugging them towards the ground. “Put the chains on the ground so I have something to hammer against, would ya?”

The mech must not have understood because he looked confused as he was more or less forced onto his knees so his servos were on the ground. Great. Definitely Vosians then – Breakdown had heard that the upper classes there sometimes didn’t even bother to learn common. It didn’t make complete sense when he could literally see the wheels on the mech’s frame, but then again, Breakdown had never actually been to Vos. Maybe there was a larger grounder population than he had realized.

Shrieks of pain and the cacophony of metal hitting metal reminded Breakdown that time was short. Bulkhead and Bonecrusher were incredible brawlers, but if those barbarians were able to get a shot off, they were fragged.

“Hold still,” Breakdown warned before raising his hammer. The Vosian flinched, but Breakdown’s grip kept him in place, and it only took a single smash to shatter the chain between the shackles.

Three pretty faces stared at him with shock.

The fourth – the red mech with the prettiest face of the group – grinned wide and victorious, and he said something awfully haughty sounding to the others.

It took another smash to disconnect one of the shackles from the chain that all the mecha were attached to. One mech free, three more to go.

The blue mech only said a couple words to the others before standing and suddenly bolting away.

Breakdown’s jaw dropped.

He had seen fast mecha – he had made his fair share of bets on mech races – but this was beyond anything he’d ever seen.

A red servo on his shoulder pulled Breakdown back to notice the red mech pointed at the next Vosian in the line already placing her servos on the ground to have the chains broken. “Oh, right, sorry,” Breakdown said before lifting his hammer again. It was pretty quick work to get the second Vosian free, and she was off like a shot like the one before her.

The chain between the third Vosian’s shackles was cracked open when Breakdown heard Bulkhead shouting his name. He barely had enough time to glance up to see a tall, _furious_ looking barbarian pick up the long chain that trailed behind the red mech before she braced her legs and ripped him towards her. The red mech yelped as it yanked him away and off his pedes to slam and be dragged along the ground, and the other Vosian with one shackle still attached was jerked along as well.

“Oh no you don’t!” Breakdown shouted, reaching out to grasp the chain connecting the Vosian to the red one and slamming his hammer down to break him free. Breakdown expected him to bolt like the others so he didn’t give him a second glance as he charged the barbarian, keeping the smaller link of chains connected to the red mech in his grip so he couldn’t be dragged any further away.

The barbarian hissed something foul sounding at him and Breakdown just yelled back at her. The red mech had dug his pedes into the ground, twisting his helm to shout at the other Vosian who was shockingly still standing there and yelling back at him, frightened, and the commotion was enough that Breakdown was able to grasp the chain still connecting the red mech to his captor. With a full swing of his arm and gritting his dentae as he tightened his hold, he slammed his hammer down and managed to snap it.

“Go!” Breakdown roared at the two freed prisoners, throwing the short string of chains still connected to the red mech’s shackle at him as the barbarian practically howled at him and lunged forward. Breakdown couldn’t lift his hammer in time to block the first blow, but it sent him skidding back and gave him enough seconds to lift it when the second came so he could throw one of his own. The barbarians were slight, but that didn’t seem to hold them back from packing a mean punch.

But Breakdown knew he could throw a meaner one.

When he saw the opening, Breakdown abandoned his hammer to have two servos to grapple with, tackling the barbarian to the ground and landing his full weight on her when he did. She hissed in his face as her servos scrambled to find purchase on his frame, but Breakdown brought a fist down on her face before she had a chance, stunning her.

Shouting caught Breakdown’s attention though, and when he glanced up at the source, he was shocked to see the red mech sprinting towards him and then leaping _over_ him—

A gunshot whizzed past his helm and hit the ground right beside where Breakdown’s servo was braced on the ground, and the thunderous echo of it nearly shattered his audial from the close distance.

Primus, had one of the barbarian’s snuck up behind him to shoot him point blank?

Breakdown slammed his fist against the barbarian beneath him one last time to completely knock her out while his audials tried to reboot. That done, Breakdown shifted onto his knees and turned to look behind him to see the red mech straddling another barbarian. He couldn’t do much more than stare, shock immobilizing him as he watched the mech he had assumed to be some high class Vosian hissing in the barbarian’s face, the chain still connecting his shackles together pulled taunt and shoved against the barbarian’s neck right under his chin. The red mech was smaller than the barbarian, but that didn’t seem to stop him from strangling with enough strength that even from the distance Breakdown could see energon lines being crushed.

“Frag me sideways,” Breakdown murmured to himself, entranced.

Until he noticed the barbarian, in desperation, lift the gun in his servo and bring the butt of it down on the back of the red mech’s knee with a crunch. The red mech yowled and Breakdown scrambled to his feet.

Despite the pain that had to be flooding him, the red mech never loosened his hold, and by the time Breakdown snatched the gun up, the barbarian was only spitting static and his optics were dim.

Bringing the butt of the gun down on his helm was enough to finally have the barbarian’s frame going limp.

The red mech held a couple seconds longer before taking a deep in-vent and settling back on his heels, though he hissed immediately and reached towards the injury. And, up close, it was pretty bad. Breakdown couldn’t see much in the twisted mess, but he did notice a cylinder had been snapped from an anchor, leaving it hanging useless and twisted, and energon was starting to make a small pool under the wound.

“Slag,” Breakdown hissed. He glanced away though to check out the rest of the scene, and was relieved to see there was only one other barbarian still on his pedes. With Bulkhead and Bonecrusher both circling him, there was no doubt he’d be out soon. “Come on, pal. Can you stand on that?”

Of course, the red mech just stared up at him, clearly not understanding his words. But the servo that Breakdown was offering was easy enough to understand, and after a moment of consideration he took it. It was easy to see though almost right away that his left leg was slagged – it just hung from his knee, pede twitching a couple times but that seemed to be the full extent of its motion.

It was going to take a damn good doctor in a damn good clinic to get that working the way it should again.

Almost immediately, the only other remaining Vosian was up next to them, chittering away at the red mech, face contorted with concern. Judging from the expression on the red mech’s face when he replied back, he knew how slagged he was too.

Nevertheless, when the Vosian reached out to take the red mech from Breakdown’s hold, he let him.

“Everyone alright over there?” Bulkhead called, his pede falls giving him away as he jogged up to Breakdown’s side. Breakdown turned to give him a once over and then Bonecrusher as the constructicon joined them. Bulkhead was covered with dents and one of his optics had a small crack, but that was all easily fixed. Bonecrusher was grabbing at his right arm though which had energon seeping out between his digits.

“I’m fine,” Breakdown insisted, “though it looks like you’re not doing so hot, Bones.”

“One of those slaggers got a shot in it,” he explained with a shrug, his mouth briefly tightening when the motion moved his arm. “But I broke his in return so it’s fine.”

“Hook will be steaming though.”

“When isn’t he?” Bonecrusher replied, and while his lips stayed a straight line, there was humor to his tone.

“Oh scrap, is he ok though?” Bulkhead asked worriedly, moving past Breakdown. He turned to see the Vosians still standing there, streaks of energon dripping down the red one’s shins, and they were clearly arguing about something. The red mech’s face was pinched, somewhere between irate and panicking.

“I don’t think so. One of those fraggers got the back of his knee,” Breakdown admitted, frowning. “I saw at least one of the cylinders got smashed outta place. Might even be totally slagged. Oh, but, they don’t know common, so trying to talk with them isn’t gonna go great.”

Bulkhead stopped in his tracks, clearly having planned on asking the mech.

“They don’t know common?” he asked, shocked.

“Nah. I think they might be Vosians?” Breakdown shrugged his shoulders, optics flicking back to the red mech. “Some of them don’t know common, right?”

“That’s not Vosian,” Bonecrusher said. “We worked a project there once. It’s all clicks and whistles – enough to make you wanna bash your own skull in, if you ask me.”

“How else would they not know common then?”

Bulkhead glanced at Bonecrusher and then back at Breakdown before saying, a little quieter, “I mean, they could be barbarians too, right?”

“What?” Breakdown hissed under his breath, his optics widening. They couldn’t be – could they?

“They have different tribes and all though, you know,” Bonecrusher said, helm cocked to one side. “I mean, it’s sure as the pits no language I know, and I’ve never met a mech with common sense who refused to have common added to their language banks. So gotta be barbarians. They could have been war spoils or something?”

Breakdown was staring the red mech down now, following the curves of his frame when the other Vosian – _barbarian?_ – tried to shoulder him and get him to start walking. Breakdown almost hoped he would find the answers in sleek red armor. Unfortunately, the pieces were coming together, but not quite the way he had hoped.

“I mean, he did choke out one of those fraggers.”

“Vicious little guy, huh?”

“Barbarian then,” Bonecrusher concluded to himself. His helmed tilted more as he looked at the red mech’s leg. “Which means he’s not gonna last long. Can’t imagine some backwater barbarian doc can do much for that kinda an injury.”

Breakdown’s spark clenched tight in his chest.

“That bad?”

“Oh yeah. I mean, Hook would know better, but we’ve seen our fair share ‘cause of him.”

Breakdown frowned deeper before, with a nod, he made his decision.

“Right. Then we’ll just have to bring him with us to Praxis.”

“Right—wait, what?” Bulkhead stammered. He didn’t stop Breakdown though as he walked up to the two barbarians.

The uninjured one jerked when he noticed Breakdown’s approach, hissing to the red one as he tried to tug him away. That just set the red one off though, snapping at him while his good leg hopped and wobbled dangerously under his weight. However, he didn’t look much more trusting when Breakdown held out his servo to him.

“Uh, hey,” Breakdown started, trying to smile as he let his shoulders droop, hoping he might make a less intimidating picture that way. “I know you can’t understand me, but I just want to help. See, your uh, your leg” – he gestured towards the injury – “that’s pretty bad, right? It hurts?”

The red mech stared at him blankly, though the angle of his lips suggested he was irritated by the lackluster game of charades interrupting the argument he had been having.

Breakdown winced, but he didn’t back down. “Look, this is gonna sound crazy, since you can’t actually understand, but you need to come with me. To see a city doctor.” The stare remained unchanged, though to Breakdown’s credit, the red mech didn’t move away either when his companion tugged at him, whispering fervently in his audial. “Right. Ok. Let’s try again. You” – Breakdown pointed at the red mech – “need to come with me” – he used both hands to reach towards the mech and then curled his arms in towards himself, as if gesturing him closer – “to see a doctor” – he mimed placing a mesh bandage over one of the scrapes on his arm, and then pointed at the red mech’s leg again before repeating the mesh bandage movement. “Does that make sense?”

The red mech’s stare was still confused, although his lips had curled up. He at least looked amused now.

And he started talking back. While the words were meaningless to Breakdown, the red mech’s voice was smooth and confident and honestly a joy to listen to. With only one servo to gesture with since the other was braced on his companion, the red pointed at Breakdown, made a similar mesh bandage movement as Breakdown had down, and then pointed at his injury, all while speaking in his own language.

Breakdown grinned.

“I think he gets it!”

“Or he thinks that you’re saying you could fix it,” Bulkhead said.

“Oh. Right. Ok, so, yeah, your leg can be fixed,” Breakdown said, again pointing at the leg and then making the fixing motion, “but not here.” He pointed at the ground under his feet and shook his head. Then he stopped and turned to Bulkhead. “You think shaking your head means the same thing to barbarians?”

“No idea, Break.”

“Slag. Ok, well, anyway. Here is a no go,” Breakdown insisted, pointing to the spot and then shaking his head again, hoping maybe the pitch of his voice would help. “You have to come with me to the city” – he gestured up towards the road they repelled down and the sideways, trying to point in the general direction.

The red mech’s optic ridges furrowed and his mouth was dipping back into a frown. He spoke again, slowly (as if that would help Breakdown understand), pointing at Breakdown, his leg, and then the ground between them.

“No, not here. You have to come with us to the city.” After cycling through the gestures again, Breakdown added, “But uh, once you were fixed, then I guess I could bring you back here,” while finally gesturing back between their feet.

The red mech heaved an ex-vent, scrubbing his face while muttering.

“I don’t think it’s working.”

“Thanks, Bulk,” Breakdown grumbled, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck and trying to figure out how else to try.

Though that line of thought trailed off when he noticed those crimson optics alight, looking him up and down rather openly as he said something to other barbarian next to him, sounding almost like a purr. His companion balked at whatever it was, chiding the red mech.

Breakdown could feel his face heat at the possibilities.

And then the moment was shattered with a piercing howl from behind him.

Breakdown spun around to see one of the barbarians – well the bad barbarians, he supposed – had come around and had his helm tilted back as he let loose another howl from his vocalizer. It echoed down the ravine, long and low and _loud._

“Cut it out, slagger,” Bonecrusher grumbled as he jogged over and kicked the barbarian in the head, silencing him again.

“That was creepy,” Bulkhead said.

“Yeah.” More than creepy – Breakdown could feel dread starting to build in his spark.

One look at how the red mech’s optics went wide and panicked as he and his companion had started talking with each other furiously didn’t help. The other mech was tugging, trying to drag him into moving again, even as the red mech hissed at him.

“Guys?”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Bulkhead agreed, turning to Bonecrusher. “Tell Hook we need him to pull us up and outta here, because I think we might have unwanted company headed our way.”

“‘Bout time.”

Bulkhead looked at Breakdown, then at the now loudly yelling barbarians, and then back as he said, “He’s not gonna make it outta here in time on that leg.”

Breakdown grimaced but he knew Bulkhead was right. While maybe before he had been as fast as the other prisoners when they had run, now he was down to one leg, and there was no way that his companion would be able to shoulder him away quickly.

“Hey, buddy,” Breakdown said, reaching out to tap the red mech on the shoulder. The barbarian whipped his helm around and snapped at him, the tone biting and definitely panicked. Breakdown winced, but he didn’t back down. “I don’t have time to explain so I’m sorry about this, but you have to come with me.”

Breakdown grasped the red mech’s arm and tugged – noticing briefly that the shackles were still connected and that he’d have to break those once they were out of dodge – until he could reach around his back and get a good hold under his shoulder. From there he only had to bend down and hook the barbarian’s knees under his arm and lift him up to carry him. The red mech squawked, his servos quick to dig sharp claws into his chest plating to steady himself and cling as if for dear life. Once it was clear though that Breakdown could carry his weight, the pinpricks pulled back a bit.

Bewildered, wild optics stared up at Breakdown while the barbarian spat an unintelligible question in his face.

Which was nothing compared to the other barbarian who was practically screaming at Breakdown.

“Our ride is here!” Bonecrusher shouted, one of his pedes on the hook while his good arm gripped the wire. “I’ll head up first to make sure we got enough counterweight to get you and your new pet up in one go.”

“Great,” Breakdown grumbled, gritting his dentae a bit as the red mech slapped his chest and repeated its question and the other barbarian continued to shriek.

Luckily though, as the wire started to pull Bonecrusher up out of the ravine, the barbarian in his arms at least stilled and watched with wide, considering optics. There were definitely some calculating going on in his processor. When his companion tried to get his attention, he shushed him and, after that didn’t actually quiet him, spoke in hushed tones with him until he finally did.

And then the red mech reached out with one servo, tapping on Breakdown’s chest to bring his gaze down towards him. Primus, but those optics were striking as they stared up at him, full of intension.

He spoke then, slowly, poking at Breakdown’s chest and pointing over his shoulder, in the direction that Breakdown and the crew had come from, and then pointing two digits down and swinging them, almost like they were legs walking. Finally, he ended with pointing at the spot they were standing.

The words didn’t mean much, though Breakdown could tell it was a question.

“Are you asking if I came from a city?”

The red mech ex-vented tiredly, optics rolling – at least that had universal meaning – before repeating the gestures and speaking in singular words. Pointing at Breakdown, pointing back towards the general direction of Tarn, the walking motion, and then pointing at their spot.

_You – from there – walked – here._

At least, that was Breakdown’s best interpretation.

“Yeah, that’s what I – right, you didn’t understand,” Breakdown said, cringing. He cleared his vocalizer and said simply, “Yes,” while nodding his head, hoping that the word, the motion, or his tone might get that across.

Red optics blinked at him.

“ _Yes_?” he parroted back, and despite himself, Breakdown’s spark warmed and he nodded eagerly.

“Yeah! I mean, yes!”

The red mech’s lips curled into a hopeful smile, and suddenly he was talking again, pointing at himself and then Breakdown, then up where Bonecrusher was disappearing over the ledge, and Breakdown said, “Yes, that’s right! I’m taking you with me.”

Seemingly convinced, the red mech turned his helm back towards his companion. While still obviously fretting, the other barbarian did take a step back when the red mech gestured him away with confident sounding words, and another when it was repeated. Finally, the barbarian looked up at Breakdown, growled something that sounded suspiciously like a threat, and then turned on his heels and fled.

And so there Breakdown found himself, with an injured barbarian in his arms who turned those dazzling crimson optics towards him and for a split second Breakdown felt as if it was his knees that were injured because boy did they feel weak.

“ _Noc._ ”

“What?”

“ _Noc_ ,” the red barbarian repeated, this time pointing at himself as he said it.

“Uhh—oh! Is that your name?” When the barbarian just gave him an exasperated look, Breakdown chuckled weakly. “Right, sorry. Simple sentences and charades.” With his servos full carrying the mech though, Breakdown had to just tip his helm in his direction and repeated back, “Knock?”

“Yes. _Noc_.”

“Makes sense,” Breakdown commented, grinning as his spark swelled in his chest. “I mean, you are a knockout.”

Optics narrowed as the barbarian stared at him, mouthing the word knockout in confusion. From next to him though, Breakdown noticed Bulkhead groan long and tiredly.

“Come on, Break. He doesn’t even understand you and you try to _flirt_?”

Breakdown’s face heated quickly as the realization of what he just said settled.

“Whoa, no, _no_ , I wasn’t. It was just a statement – pointing out the obvious!”

“Yeah, that you’re obviously checking out the ‘knockout’ barbarian.”

“That’s not true,” Breakdown groused. Unfortunately that was the moment that long clawed digits gripped him by the chin and pulled his face back towards the barbarian’s.

“Noc-out?” he asked with raised optic ridges, and _Primus,_ Breakdown wondered if the barbarian would be able to feel the new rush of heat to his face.

Given the way his lips started to curl deviously, Breakdown feared it was too late.

“No, sorry, forget that. That was inappropriate. Just uh, frag, let’s start over, ok?” Breakdown cleared his vocalizer. “You’re Noc. I’m Breakdown.”

“Ahm Brekdown?” the barbarian tried, letting go of Breakdown’s chin to point at him.

“Breakdown,” he corrected.

“Breakdown?”

“Yes.”

The barbarian grinned. “Breakdown,” he repeated, and then turned his digit to point at himself. “Knockout.”

Bulkhead burst into howling, knee-slapping laughter and a slag-eating grin split the barbarian’s face, digits quick to stop Breakdown from looking away as his face twisted with embarrassment, optics bright as they drank him in.

What the frag had he gotten himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to try my hand at my own spin on the ol barbarian AU trope, haha. Hopefully you enjoy! More chapters to come soon.
> 
> Feel free to hit me up on my tumblr page @roseymoseyberry!


	2. Chapter 2

Actually getting Knockout up the cliff was much more difficult than Breakdown had initially thought.

The first issue was the fact that he needed to have at least one servo free to hold the wire. Breakdown tried to just hold Knockout with one arm, but while the barbarian was smaller than him, it wasn’t by that much. It didn’t help that he couldn’t tell Knockout how to shift and move with him, and every time Bulkhead tried to help, Knockout squirmed away from his servos.

Then Breakdown had tried moving Knockout to be pressed chest to chest with him, so that the barbarian could hold onto him and he would only need to hook one arm under Knockout.

That had quickly become a disaster when his servo on Knockout’s aft ended with the barbarian slapping him across the face.

“Are you just gonna frag around down there all day, or are we getting our afts outta here?!”

“Get melted, Mixmaster!”

Finally, frustrated, Breakdown just hauled Knockout up and over his shoulder. Knockout yelped before starting to spit out what Breakdown could only assume were barbarian curses at him.

Nevertheless, it finally did the job. Breakdown settled one pede on the hook and wrapped his other leg around the wire before holding on tight with his free servo. The other servo squeezed Knockout close to his shoulder, digits hooked into the edges of the barbarian’s hips.

“Now hold still, would ya?”

Knockout just huffed at him.

However, as the wire jerked and started their ascent, Knockout’s claws hooked into the edges of Breakdown’s back armor plating, squeezing tighter and tighter the higher they went. Breakdown wasn’t surprised – the first time one of the constructicons had told him to just ride Hook’s line up out of deeply dug construction hole, the entire ride up had felt like a death sentence. It had taken a few more rides done purely to protect his pride before Breakdown had become comfortable with it.

“It’s ok, Noc. I’ve got you,” Breakdown said, trying to sound comforting as he squeezed the barbarian’s hip a little tighter. “We’re not gonna fall.”

There wasn’t an immediate response, and Breakdown was starting to wonder why he had bothered when his passenger quietly mumbled, “Knockout.”

Breakdown couldn’t help snorting and shaking his helm. “Really? You’re terrified for your life, and you’re still gonna tease me?” he asked, allowing his amused disbelief to color his voice. And that seemed to be enough to have Knockout snickering, his abdomen rumbling with it. “You’re one weird mech, you know that?”

“Knockout,” he still insisted. Breakdown ex-vented.

“You really want to make sure I never live that down, huh?”

The growing intensity of the vibrations against his shoulder only went to show just how much the barbarian was enjoying the simple game.

“Knockout.”

“Fine. I’ll call you Knockout from now on. Happy?”

The way the snickering blended into a satisfied purr had Breakdown heating up quickly. At least though the exchange had been enough to distract Knockout. At the expense of his dignity, Breakdown watched the cliff finally pass his vision to reveal the constructicons all settled on top of Hook’s alt-mode, and Knockout wasn’t shivering out of fear.

The wire slowed until it stopped smoothly, not so much as making Breakdown sway.

“So, you really did pick up a barbarian pet, huh?” Scavenger said, aiming for teasing but frankly just sounding excited.

Scrapper seemed less pleased as he commented, “I’d expect as much from Bulk, but thought you at least knew better.”

“Yeah, yeah, save the lectures for when I’ve got solid ground under my pedes, would ya?” Breakdown replied, feeling the barbarian’s claws dig into his back again as Knockout snapped a question at him. Whatever joy he had gotten out of teasing Breakdown had run short and he wanted to be on flat ground immediately. “I’m starting to worry these claw marks are gonna scar.”

“Like you wouldn’t like that,” Hook groused, even as he slowly, carefully reversed, bringing the hook and it’s passengers over onto the ledge.

“Always did like pretty ones with a mean streak,” Longhaul agreed.

“You’re all disgusting,” Breakdown said as he was finally able to unwrap his leg from the wire and settle his pedes onto solid ground. “He got his knee slagged saving my sorry aft, so I’m gonna make sure he doesn’t offline out here because of it, alright?”

“Bonecrusher did mention that. Sent me his visuals,” Hook commented, already moving forward again to unroll the hook down for Bulkhead. “Looked like it’s gonna cost you some pretty shanix to afford a doctor who can fully restore his movement.”

Breakdown frowned, but ignored the topic for the time being. With solid ground under him again, he shifted and lifted Knockout off his shoulder to settle his good leg down.

As soon as he was safely on his pede, Knockout spun around using Breakdown’s arm to steady himself, wide optics taking in the scene.

And the five constructicons staring at him from their perch on top of Hook.

Knockout’s servo shuddered against Breakdown’s plating before squeezing tightly. However, that was the only outward sign that Breakdown noticed of the barbarian’s trepidations. He kept his faceplates schooled in a neutral, if not somewhat haughty expression.

“You sure he’s a barbarian? Seems awful shiny and polished for roughing it out in the wilds,” Mixmaster commented.

“Doesn’t speak a lick of common so he’s gotta be. ‘Sides, we’ve never even seen barbarians till today,” Bonecrusher insisted. “Rest of the prisoners were like that too. Probably the whole tribe.”

“That’s a tribe I wouldn’t mind visiting.”

“Alright, enough already. Stop staring at him like that,” Breakdown interrupted, scowling at them as he shifted Knockout to his side instead of in front of him. “You’re making him nervous.”

“Looks fine to me.” Scavenger hopped off of Hook and only managed to take two steps before Knockout’s plating started to flare out, scowling at him while his grip on Breakdown’s arm tightened further. When he lifted a pede for a third step Knockout’s engine started to growl in his chassis. That drew the constructicon up short as he placed it back down and lifted his servos up, as if in surrender. “Alright, I take that back. I’m clearly pissing him off.”

“Hey,” Breakdown said softly as he bent down a bit so he was closer to Knockout’s helm, “hey, it’s alright, Knockout. They might look like trouble, but they don’t actually mean any harm. They’re my friends.”

Knockout only glanced at him for a moment before he was back to watching the constructicons warily.

Breakdown ex-vented tiredly.

It was one thing to try to make himself seem trustworthy, but the constructicons?

It was going to be a long week.

* * *

Breakdown had tried his best. He really had.

But Scrapper won out as the victor of their shouting match. Breakdown tried to soothe his sore ego with reminding himself that any argument with one constructicon was an argument with all of them, and even he didn’t have a chance against that kind of mech power. While accurate, in the end he knew that it was because Scrapper was right. If there really was the potential for more barbarians to show up – particularly those tall and thin fraggers – then they couldn’t very well hang around. It was safer to just patch up energon line breakages and keep moving until they would eventually stop for the night. The more distance between that ravine and their eventual camp, the better.

Truthfully, Hook didn’t seem happy about it either, since it meant he couldn’t sit down and take the time to fully treat Bonescrusher’s wounds and get him back to good as new. In fact, he had actually been on Breakdown’s side of the argument for that reason – the only constructicon to question the decision – but Scrapper was quick to point out there was no point in fixing frames that would just get trashed if more barbarians showed up in the process.

Hook’s dentae practically sparked with how harshly he was grinding them when he wasn’t able to actually finish the job before they headed back on the road.

Truthfully, even Scrapper had gotten genuinely heated when Breakdown, bitter from losing the argument, told him he could frag off when Scrapper said they should leave Knockout’s servos chained together until they knew for sure he was safe.

“We don’t know him, can’t trust him – I’m not putting my mecha at risk for a barbarian!”

“What risk?!”

“We don’t know what he’s capable of— _Breakdown_! For frag’s sake!”

Scrapper had dragged them back onto the road, but he couldn’t very well fix a shattered chain.

Breakdown didn’t totally understand the connection the six mecha had as a gestalt team, but he knew enough that he wasn’t surprised that Hook and Scrapper’s frustration and Bonecrusher’s pain leeched into the others and intermingled with their overall shared concern about each other, making them all irritable.

Where one constructicon went, the rest usually followed. So Breakdown had been ready for that.

But he hadn’t counted on how badly Knockout would take to having Hook trying to seal up the torn energon lines in his knee. Breakdown had tried to reassure him, and the fact that Knockout somewhat trusted Bulkhead and Bonecrusher helped as they stood next to Hook, insisting that Hook was alright.

Knockout had let Hook approach him and learned his name.

But the second that Hook so much as looked at his leg with a critical visor, the barbarian bristled and protested. Breakdown had ended up having to hold Knockout in a helm-lock so that Hook could quickly apply the mesh bandages.

Breakdown had ended up with another slap to the face when he let Knockout go.

For all of a couple seconds, he had wondered if he should have listened to Scrapper’s advice about the chains.

And so there Breakdown found himself, carrying a fuming and betrayed looking barbarian while the six constructicons walked in tense silence only occasionally broken by bickering under their ventilations. The fact that Bonecrusher’s injury meant Hook recommended he not transform only made it worse because that meant all the constructicons were in their root mode, so they couldn’t even hide their collective bad mood behind alt-modes.

“Maybe he should have just let that bullet end me right there. It would have been better than this.”

Bulkhead exaggerated a grimace, though it was easy to see that to some extent it was real.

“We only have a couple hours before the sun sets, which means we’ll probably be stopping in an hour. Once Hook can get Bonecrusher fixed up they’ll relax.”

“That will be an improvement, but they’re not the ones I have to carry the whole way to Praxis.”

Something must have tipped the barbarian off as he turned his helm to give Breakdown a withering look. Breakdown frowned at Knockout in return.

“Don’t give me that look. At least now you aren’t leaking.”

Knockout’s optic ridges lifted and even with the language barrier, it was obvious he had said something scathing.

“Yeah, well, same to you. Probably.” Breakdown ex-vented tiredly, unable to even really hold onto his temper for long at the moment. His frame ached from the fight and the long walk carrying Knockout. What he needed was a cube and a good night’s recharge.

Bulkhead’s hand settled on his shoulder, patting once before squeezing.

“Hey. You’re doing a good thing,” he said with a soft smile. “He’s probably just scared, y’know? I mean, imagine how his day is going. Somehow him and his friends are captured by those fraggers, he gets rescued but his knee is busted and probably hurts like a slagging pit, and his rescuer can’t communicate with him beyond one of the worst games of charades I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m trying my best,” Breakdown grumbled and Bulkhead patted his shoulder again.

“I know you are. And he’s probably figured that out too. But he’s still gonna be scared, and if anyone understands getting mad to hide when he’s scared, it’s you.”

Breakdown shot his friend a look. “Frag you.”

“You really gonna try to say I’m wrong?”

“Yeah, because I don’t get scared.”

Bulkhead just flat out laughed, seemingly unworried about the nasty looks it got him from the constructicons. “Yeah, right. So I just imagined the way you were trembling from your helm to the tips of your pedes when Mixmaster’s latest experiment nearly blasted your arm off.”

“I was pissed!”

“You definitely yelled at him loud enough that everyone’s audials were ringing,” Bulkhead recounted. “But you were scared waste-less and we all knew it.”

Breakdown frowned deeper, turning his helm away as he huffed.

“Not true.”

“It’s so true.”

“Frag off.”

Bulkhead just laughed again and let it drop.

Breakdown, however, took the chance to really think about it.

And then ex-vented long and low.

“Knockout?”

The mech glanced up at him, and even irritated, those crimson optics were enchanting.

“You don’t have anything to be afraid of with me around, ok? I’ll take good care of you.” Knockout’s optic ridges raised and Breakdown shrugged as best he could without jostling his passenger too much. “Which you don’t understand anyway. But I dunno, maybe just saying it counts for something? Because I mean it. Nothing bad will happen to you on my watch.”

Knockout blinked at him and then turned away, as if still disinterested.

But his helm inched closer to Breakdown’s chest until it was leaned against it. Within minutes, the barbarian was passed out, finally giving into the needs of his battered frame.

And if there was a greater reassurance of the trust Knockout was putting into Breakdown, he sure as frag wasn’t aware of it.

* * *

Just as Bulkhead had predicted, Scrapper called for them to make camp and Hook immediately grabbed Bonecrusher by his good arm and yanked him to the ground to let him get to work on his arm. Once his servos were moving to finally finish the job, the self-trained medic’s frame started to relax, and one by one Breakdown noticed the other constructicons following suit.

Knockout hadn’t been particularly pleased about being woken up, but the second he realized why, he took the chance to get out of Breakdown’s hold and settle down to sit on the ground. His good leg crossed over the other and his servos settled in his lap as he watched the crew settle in for the night with sharp, focused optics.

Breakdown didn’t think much of it as he moved to help Mixmaster with the fire. It wasn’t particularly cold this time of year, but having a true campfire was soothing in its own way. Plus they had lamps, but they had limited charge so there was no point in wasting such important tools when they could just use a good old fire and save the lamps for when they were needed.

Not that Mixmaster needed a whole lot of help. He was quick to set up the large bowl and fill it with just enough flammable concoction to last the night, only needing Breakdown to strike some flint a few times until a spark set it all aflame.

“You know, something just occurred to me.”

“That’s surprising,” Hook commented, causing Scavenger’s face to screw up with displeasure and something too close to genuine hurt. Breakdown saw how all the constructicons paused, and quickly Hook added, “I was just joking, Scavenger. We know you’re not dumb. What’d you notice?”

Scavenger still pouted, but his gaze had drifted over to where Knockout was sat. “Well, mostly that he doesn’t have clothes. I thought that was something all barbarians did, you know?”

Breakdown frowned and glanced over at Knockout as well. The barbarian raised his ridges, and asked a question. Probably wondering why there were all looking at him.

“It’s pretty dumb if you ask me. What do they need to cover up?” Longhaul commented. “That’s what we got panels for.”

“Sure, but that doesn’t explain why he’s different.”

“Maybe his tribe are nudists by barbarian standards,” Bonecrusher suggested, wincing a bit when Hook started up his blow torch to seal the wound. “The rest of his type didn’t wear anything either.”

Knockout was starting to look agitated, his armor slightly raised as he glanced at them all before looking at Breakdown and asking his question again, though harsher this time. He lifted one servo to gesture to them all as he did, though the other stayed firmly in his lap.

 _Covering_ his lap.

“They might have taken them,” Breakdown thought aloud as he reached into his sub-space. “Those other barbarians, you know?”

“That would make sense. A way to show them who’s the boss and all,” Scrapper agreed, glancing away from Hook’s work on Bonecrusher as he considered Knockout. “Plus it might dissuade them from wanting to run. It’d be like running through the streets without your panels.”

“I wonder who would know how that feels.” Mixmaster grinned wide when Bulkhead bristled.

“That wasn’t funny! You made me late for work!”

The constructicons all slipped into snickers – in Mixmaster and Scavenger’s case full on chassis-rattling laughter – as Bulkhead got into an argument with them about whether it was a great prank or the worst.

Breakdown knew Bulkhead well enough that he could tell by his voice alone that he wasn’t all that mad about it anymore.

And the argument made great cover for Breakdown to kneel down next to Knockout, pulling out his drying towel as he did. It was pretty long for a drying towel since it had to cover the span of his broad shoulders, the fabric some cheap synthetic business in blue. He couldn’t imagine it was ideal for clothing, but he also didn’t know anything about clothes beyond the fact that they existed, so he wouldn’t have been able to pick something good even if he had options.

Knockout’s optics widened.

“Did you want it?” Breakdown asked, holding his servo out more to Knockout, hoping the gesture spoke for itself.

Knockout glanced up at his face and then back down to the towel.

And in the blink of an optic, he snatched it up and quickly draped it over his lap. That done, Knockout started talking at him, gesturing up and then reaching his free servo out towards Breakdown while he brought his good leg in towards his chest to brace his pede on the ground.

“Do you want up?”

Knockout’s gaze turned hazy for a moment, looking like a mech digging through their processor. Breakdown waited, wondering at just what Knockout could be thinking about so deeply, before Knockout focused again and nodded. “Yes. Knockout up.”

And then he laughed at Breakdown’s shocked face, the sound sweeter than the nicest highgrade Breakdown had ever drunk. Knockout was quick to continue talking in his own language again, obviously teasing.

“Primus. You’re already way better at this than I am,” he said, smiling as he grasped Knockout’s servo. “Alright, up you go.”

Once on his good pede again, Knockout bounced and awkwardly maneuvered them both until Breakdown stood between him and the rest of the crew. He settled, finding his balance, and then looked up at Breakdown. He spoke while pointing up at Breakdown and then twirling his digit around.

“What’re you two doing over there?” Scavenger asked.

“I think he’s putting on the towel I gave him,” Breakdown said, his face pinching when Knockout huffed a ventilation and repeated the twirling motion. “But he keeps doing this thing with his digit that I don’t get?”

“Does somebody need to explain fragging to you, Break?”

The constructicons burst out with laughter at Bulkhead’s comment, and Breakdown turned his helm to glower at them.

“No, but that does remind me that it’s been a while since you’ve fragged anybody. I’m starting to worry you might need a refresher course.”

“You offering?” Bulkhead teased, lifting a servo to flick his glossa between the v of his pointer and middle.

He was only able to maintain his composure for a couple seconds before bursting out into wheezing snickers.

And that finally did Breakdown in. A snorting ex-vent announced his full-frame laughter as Breakdown shook his head, face scrunched up with mirth.

By the time he finally started to get his frame back under control and looked back down at Knockout, the barbarian was clearly done. The towel was wrapped around his hips, though Breakdown wondered if it had been doubled around or perhaps some of the fabric covering his codpiece underneath since he knew the towel was longer than what he could see. The edge he could see was held in place at the top of one hip by an emblem of some sort that Breakdown could only guess Knockout had had tucked away in his subspace. It was simple, just a gold disc, but it suited Knockout nicely. A simple highlight, nothing that would even attempt to distract from his beauty.

What was more distracting though was the wide smile on Knockout’s face. His frame was much more at ease now, plating laying slack, and he reached up to pat Breakdown on the chest as he spoke warmly.

Breakdown’s spark felt light enough that he was sure it would have just floated away if it escaped his chest.

“I’m glad you like it,” Breakdown said, reaching up to rub the back of his neck as he grinned in return. “Sorry I didn’t realize sooner though. I’ll just have to get you something a little nicer than my old towel when we get to Praxis to make up for it, huh?”

Knockout’s helm tilted, not understanding but also not seeming to mind as he still wore a pleased expression on his face.

“Sounds like you’re outta luck, Bulkhead. That little guy already got Breakdown by the ball bearings and I doubt he’s the sharing type.”

The chorus of chuckles started up again as Breakdown turned back towards the crew, helping Knockout to settle on the ground.

“Alright, seriously, enough outta you clowns. It’s not fair to tease somebody who can’t even understand you,” Breakdown chided.

“Last I checked, you understand common just fine,” Mixmaster said with a grin.

Breakdown lifted his servo just enough to flip the constructicon off, which only set the rest of the crew snickering again.

“Who knew that you’d be a better conversation partner than these glitches,” he muttered to Knockout.

The barbarian stared up at him and then at the rest, considering and calculating.

And then there was that mischievous smirk pulling at his lips again, though this time he lifted his servo, his digits already spread in a v shape as it headed towards his lips.

The crew absolutely howled as Breakdown’s cooling fans whirled up with a start as he grabbed at Knockout’s servo, stammering, “Oh no, no no no, don’t– Bulk, look what you’ve done! No, Knockout, don’t do that, you don’t know what that means–!”

“Slag me, if you could see your fragging face!”

“Come on Breakdown, let him express himself!”

“Yes, Knockout, yes! Go go go!”

Breakdown’s face was burning with embarrassment and a rush of something he’d rather not name as Knockout tried to wrestle his servos free of Breakdown’s grip, his grin only widening as he purred teasing words that would have probably only made Breakdown run that much hotter if he knew their meaning.

The cheers from the crowd only egged Knockout on. He was clearly a glutton for the attention, practically gleeful to join the crew in teasing Breakdown, though his optics never strayed from Breakdown’s face for long.

And Breakdown couldn’t help himself – he broke into more chassis-rattling laughter, because here he was with the most beautiful mech in the entire world, and he was a barbarian with Breakdown’s old towel wrapped around him for clothing, trying to make lewd gestures at him to tease him and make his closest friends laugh.

And Knockout’s optics _gleamed_ when Breakdown started laughing, chewing on his bottom lip to try to muffle his own snickers.

 _Primus_ , he was so fragged.

* * *

With the mood lifted, the rest of the evening was relatively uneventful and pleasant, even with the new temporary member of their crew. Knockout had looked at the cube of energon Breakdown handed him warily, but drank when he saw Breakdown drinking his own. The barbarian did make a face at the taste – not outright disgust though, more conflicted as he processed it while looking at the shimmering liquid through the cube.

Nevertheless, he drank it down, which was a relief for Breakdown.

Knockout didn’t let Hook tend to his wound though. He had let the constructicon approach him – seemed much more at ease with the rest of the crew in general than before, though he still grabbed at Breakdown when he tried to leave his side – but when Hook had pointed at Knockout’s leg, the barbarian bristled.

“No.”

“C'mon, Knockout. Hook is good at it. He fixed Bonecrusher, right?” Breakdown said as he pointed from Hook to Bonecrusher. Knockout’s optics narrowed.

“No Hook.”

“You heard him,” Hook said, stepping away to settle back in his previous seat by the fire. “If he doesn’t appreciate my expert work then he doesn’t deserve it.”

“But–”

“He’ll be fine,” Hook interrupted. “From what I saw when I slapped the mesh on him, there’s nothing in there that’s gonna get worse with time as long as it doesn’t get aggravated. He’ll make it just fine until Praxis if you don’t jostle him too much.”

Breakdown hadn’t been happy about that, but ultimately let it go. It wasn’t like he knew much about engineering or medicine, so he didn’t really have a leg to stand on in the argument.

And, truthfully, the relief on Knockout’s face was a welcome change compared with the ire of earlier that day when his protests had been ignored.

Breakdown didn’t like it, but he did want to respect Knockout’s decisions as much as he could in their situation. Bulkhead had been right that Knockout, for all his theatrics, was probably freaked out by the day’s events, and being forced into anything without understanding why would only make that worse. As much as the injury worried Breakdown, it was Knockout’s decision, not his.

So Breakdown settled on the ground, stretching out his limbs before placing his arms behind his helm and ex-venting with relief. He would be recharging deeply, especially since Scrapper had insisted that he, Bulkhead, and Bonecrusher got to skip on having any guard shifts for the night.

However, he did online his optics again before letting himself slip out of consciousness, looking up at Knockout. The barbarian had gotten comfortable resting his back against a large metal formation, but he didn’t look like he was planning on recharging any time soon.

“Knockout?”

Red optics met his, optic ridges raised.

“Stay here, ok?” Breakdown asked. When Knockout just blinked at him, Breakdown shifted to rest his weight on one elbow so he could gesture with his servo. “Knockout,” he said, pointing at the barbarian before pointing at the ground between them, “stay here.”

And Knockout rolled his optics and pointed at his injured leg.

“Yes,” he replied, and by the Unmaker himself, Knockout had already figured out how to cram as much sarcasm as could fit into one word. “Knockout stay here.”

Breakdown grimaced.

“Right, sorry. I just—right,” he trailed off. “Well, I’ll be right here, ok? You can wake me up if you need something.” Knockout didn’t say anything in response, just shifted to get comfortable against the formation. “Goodnight, Knockout.”

“Goodnight?”

Breakdown couldn’t even begin to figure out how he’d explain the term. So instead he just shrugged, pointing at himself. “I say ‘goodnight, Knockout’ and then you,” he said, moving his digit to point at Knockout, “say ‘goodnight, Breakdown.’”

After a moment the confusion faded and Knockout huffed an amused sounding ex-vent.

“Goodnight, Breakdown.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hot damn, y'all!!! I was not expecting such a huge wave of positive responses to this fic! Thank you all so, so, so much. All your kudos and comments mean so much to me. I'm so blown away, and was absolutely itching to post more because of y'all, haha.
> 
> I hope you continue to enjoy! Featuring a lot more of the constructicons this time around, and I figured I'd just cut things off at the pass and let y'all know they're based almost entirely on g1. I haven't actually read the tfidw comics in which they feature yet so. Took g1 and ran with it, haha.


	3. Chapter 3

“Don’t say anything negative. He’ll start all over again if you do.”

Breakdown face pinched as he rebooted his optics to clear the blurriness of recharge. The first thing he noticed was that Knockout was not only still online, but he was busy moving things. A couple long bars, some small little things Breakdown couldn’t quite make out, and a jar of some sort.

The second thing that Breakdown noticed is that it was still dark. The fire lit up enough that he could see the rest of the crew recharging, could see the way Knockout’s ridges furrowed and he pursed his lips as he poked at his knee, and saw where Hook was perched on a boulder nearby, no doubt the one on watch duty and who had spoken to him.

It wasn’t until Knockout blinked back at him, noticing the glow of Breakdown’s optics, that Knockout stilled.

Primus, he was too fragging tired for this.

“He’ll start what over again?” Breakdown asked quietly, trying to keep his voice neutral.

Knockout was watching him very closely now, as if waiting for Breakdown to turn on him.

“I’m not totally sure yet. He didn’t get very far when Mixmaster and I switched off. He must have made your barbarian nervous when he started asking question because he shoved all those supplies back in his subspace. But judging from how focused he is on his wound and what all he has, I would guess he’s decided to taking care of the injury himself.”

Breakdown had to fight back a frown.

“But what if he frags it up?”

“It’s already pretty bad. Can’t imagine his barbarian first aid techniques would hurt it much more.”

“Breakdown?” Knockout questioned, his expression still wary, his lips pressed in a tight line. “Yes? No?”

“Uh. Yes, I guess,” Breakdown murmured. That was clearly the right answer so far as Knockout was concerned as the barbarian relaxed and returned to his supplies. He grabbed the handful of small things – they looked like screws now that Breakdown’s optics were better calibrated to the dim light – and placed them in a small pan of sorts. Next he picked up a small metal slab which he shoved into the fire bowl, quick to remove his servo before the fire could more than lick at his digits.

“He doesn’t mind that you’re watching though?”

“No. I’m curious what he’s up to, so I didn’t stop him. After enough time passed, he seemed to understand that and ignored me.” Hook’s face was mostly in shadows since he was looking out into the wilds, but Breakdown could still make out a small smirk. “I ignore him, he ignores me. Works well enough.”

Knockout shifted forward, moving his frame further from the metal formation at his back until he could lean back a ways and then twisted his torso. At first Breakdown just watched, puzzled, as Knockout tugged his makeshift skirt up and pulled aside some of the fabric that further covered his pelvis beneath it.

And then Knockout shoved his long, clawed digits into the gap his frame position had opened up in his hip.

Breakdown’s optics went wide and bright as he jerked up right.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” he stammered out, looking from Knockout to Hook and back. “You probably shouldn’t do that, right? He shouldn’t do that?”

Knockout looked unimpressed, and when Breakdown didn’t actually reach out towards him, he just went back to whatever his digit was doing that deep in his hip. His optics dimmed and he absently licked his lips, face pinched with concentration.

“It’s probably fine,” Hook commented, his helm now fully turned to consider Knockout, watching with interest. “He knew exactly how to get at his wiring, so I’d guess he knows what he’s looking for.”

“What could he be looking for?”

Knockout’s optics brightened and he retracted his claws from his hip.

“If my suspicion about him is right?”

Knockout flicked his finger at his leg plating harshly and didn’t so much as twitch.

“I think you have a barbarian doctor on your servos, and he just clipped his pain reception wiring.”

“What?” Breakdown asked dumbly, even as he watched Knockout proceed to shift his injured leg. He straightened it out and turned it until the shin lined up perfectly with his upper leg.

“He’s a doctor,” Hook repeated again. “I had my suspicions given all the supplies he has, but he’s obviously got a pretty good knowledge of the cybertronian frame.”

“Right.” With the leg straightened, Knockout picked up one of the rods and held it against the outside of his leg, lining it up so that his knee was at about the halfway point on it. That was when Breakdown noticed the little holes in it which Knockout was twisting his torso to look at.

Breakdown felt a trickle of shame in his spark at the fact that he was so surprised. Just because Knockout didn’t speak common didn’t mean he was an idiot.

In fact, he was starting to realize that Knockout was probably smarter than he was.

“Is it ok for him to do that to his wires though? I mean, those are important.”

“For feeling pain, sure,” Hook commented. “That’s usually important for making sure you know when you’re doing something your frame doesn’t like. But if his leg’s already fragged? Cutting it off before it can bother your processor is easier than reapply numbing agents and pain killers. I would guess he probably just nicked it so it doesn’t function now, but given enough time his repair nanites will fix it up.”

Seemingly happy with the placement, Knockout carefully pressed his claw into the small divots of the rod. He grimaced to himself as the slightest of scraping noises could be heard, which was odd considering his pain receptors shouldn’t have been working anymore. Knockout didn’t go digging around in his hip again though, instead moving to make another scrape in his armor where the lower divot sat on his shin, grimacing again.

“So he’s just making it stop hurting?”

“I mean, that’s usually the first step before screwing a brace into your plating.”

Breakdown’s spark stalled for a moment.

He was marking spots for _screws_.

“But–”

“Relax already would ya?” Hook interrupted tiredly. “It’s a simple procedure, and exactly what I would have done if he had let me.”

Breakdown still frowned but nodded.

Done with the one side, Knockout put the rod on the ground and placed the other on the inside of his leg to repeat the process. And Breakdown just sat there and watched, transfixed by the precision that Knockout showed.

“Knockout?”

The barbarian glanced up and Breakdown swallowed down his nervousness.

“Did you want help?”

Hook snorted a harsh ex-vent, but he didn’t comment.

“Help?” Knockout asked as he stared at him, optics dimming as his processor worked.

“Yeah. With your leg?” Breakdown said, pointing at the injury. Knockout still looked confused and Breakdown ex-vented with disappointment. “I guess that’s a harder word to explain with just charades, huh?”

Knockout continued to watch him, as if waiting for more.

“Here,” Breakdown said, shifting himself over to sit right next to Knockout. The barbarian’s plating twitched, prepared to flare, but Breakdown kept his voice quiet – both to keep from waking the rest of the still recharging team, and also to keep from appearing at all forceful. “I’m not gonna stop you or anything. I just want to help. If you want help.”

“Help?” Knockout repeated, optics narrowed.

Breakdown nodded and reached out towards the rod laying by Knockout’s leg. Knockout was quick to grab it, his optics flaring as he scowled. But still, Breakdown reached, grasping the other end of it.

“Yeah. I want to help you.”

Then Breakdown pushed the rod back towards Knockout’s leg, holding it where the barbarian had previously. “Help.”

Knockout still frowned, and replied in his own language, gesturing with his free hand at himself, at his supplies, at his leg.

“Yeah, no, I know. You’re gonna fix yourself. You fix,” he stated, pointing at Knockout and then at the leg, and then turned his digit on himself, “and I help.” Breakdown finally pointed to where his servo merely held the rod in place.

And, slowly, Knockout’s optics cycled.

They were so focused on Breakdown.

“Knockout fix.”

“Yeah.”

“Breakdown help.”

“If you want.”

And, still slowly, Knockout’s lips curled.

“Yes.”

While Breakdown still didn’t feel fully comfortable, his fear eased in knowing that he could at least help, holding the rod as he watched Knockout work. The barbarian slipped his servo into his subspace again to pull out a thick mitt which he immediately donned. With it on, Knockout reached back into the fire to grab the metal slab he had placed there, now glowing with heat.

Breakdown winced when Knockout placed the red-hot metal onto his leg plating, though Knockout didn’t look at all concerned or pained.

“He’s just softening it to make it easier to twist the screws in,” Hook reassured, unbidden but very much appreciated.

Breakdown nodded absently, enraptured by how Knockout’s hold curled the malleable metal around the curve of his thigh, pressing the heat into his frame. A few minutes went by, interrupted by Knockout occasionally lifting the slab to poke at the armor with his bare servo to test his plating, until finally the check was satisfactory. The slab was placed back in the fire while Knockout gestured Breakdown closer.

“Stay here,” he ordered, pointing at the rod in Breakdown’s servos and then at his leg. Breakdown followed quickly, lining the divot with the small mark he could still see in the hot thigh plating.

“Here?”

“Yes,” Knockout said, and it sounded an awful lot like praise.

Then, fast as he could, Knockout plucked up one of the screws, pressed it through the divot and twisted it into his plating. Breakdown winced but stayed firm, keeping his hold steady as he watched the screw slowly, bit by bit, twist and sink into Knockout’s leg.

As soon as the screw was all the way in, Knockout repeated the process on his shin, completely at ease as he heated his armor. Getting his lower leg to lay at the right angle and stay there was more difficult since Knockout couldn’t control it, so Breakdown shifted until he was sat by Knockout’s pede, holding the rod with one servo and Knockout’s leg with the other.

By the time they were attaching the second rod to the inside of Knockout’s leg, Breakdown’s anxiety had slipped away completely. Knockout knew what he was doing, and Breakdown was able to help make that go easier, and before he knew it, Knockout’s leg was completely braced.

“Not bad I suppose,” Hook commented haughtily and Breakdown just snorted.

Knockout’s smile managed to be more distracting than Hook’s ego though.

He murmured something to Breakdown as he reached out to pat his shoulder. It certainly sounded like praise so Breakdown smiled back.

“Not a problem, Knockout.”

That brilliant smile broadened before Knockout looked away, picking up the jar that still sat at his side. The mixture inside was mildly yellow in color and viscous as Knockout dipped his digits in. With enough of the goop on his digits, he turned his leg to one side to make the inside of his knee face himself, the bracing moving his shin along with his thigh. He dipped his helm down and started to poke around in the wound. His optics narrowed and he leaned closer still.

“Did you need light?”

“Light?” Knockout replied distractedly, his optics never straying from his work as he picked at something and moved his servo, a soft clanking of metal hitting metal rising from the opening.

“Yeah. Here, hold on, let me just–” Breakdown pulled a small flashlight from his subspace and turned it on. “See? Light. Do you need it?”

Knockout’s optics lit up and he immediately pointed at the flashlight and then at his leg, saying, “Light here.”

“You got it, boss,” Breakdown replied, shifting to his knees to shuffle over to Knockout’s other side. Lighting up the injury reignited some of the panic though because scrap, it was a mess in there. Struts and cylinders all knocked out of place, and the ones that hung on were dented to the pits and back. And that wasn’t mentioning the wiring. It was _bad_. And worse still was how much of it was still loose; the second that Knockout got the light in there, he was poking at all the bits that hung or clunked against the others. “Scrap. That’s really bad, Knockout.”

Knockout shrugged and casually replied as he dipped one of his digits into the goop the other servo held. He applied it to the end of a cylinder and then, carefully, moved the cylinder until the sticky end met where it had originally attached. Knockout held it there for a while, even bending down further to blow on it, until he let go and the cylinder stayed.

“Oh. It’s glue.”

Knockout nodded as if he had understood Breakdown, even as he scooped up more and picked at a strut that hung uselessly. Breakdown was starting to think that Knockout was just humoring him, only paying him half a processor – if even that – but he found that he didn’t really mind so much. He did the same when he was focused. And, truthfully, Breakdown much preferred that Knockout focus on his injury instead of trying to understand what sounded like nonsense to him.

So Breakdown quieted and just watched, finding some form of morbid fascination with how precisely Knockout worked. Whatever the glue was, it held well, and bit by bit, Knockout made sure that all of his parts were set in place. When he rotated his leg this way and that, nothing so much as shifted. Knockout then pulled a last vial from his subspace, uncorking it to pour what looked to be just simple water onto his glue-covered servo. Where the substance had started to stiffen, it melted under the liquid, and it only took some vigorous scrubbing and another rinse for Knockout to clean his servos.

Knockout was grinning as he said something with relief and no little self-satisfaction. And then he turned his focus to Breakdown, optic ridges raised, and yes, while Breakdown had no way of understanding the words, he knew bragging when he heard it.

“Gotta admit, you’re pretty fragging smart,” Breakdown complimented, smiling back at Knockout and chuckling softly. “I mean, a pretty face _and_ a doctor? I’m starting to think you might find me pretty boring in comparison once you understand me.”

Knockout practically preened despite not understanding a word. No doubt assuming – correctly – that he was being praised.

“Careful. Looks like that one’s got an ego,” Hook commented.

“I think that’s just something all docs have,” Breakdown replied, snickering when Hook huffed and looked back out towards the wilds.

There still wasn’t even a hint of the sun, and a quick check of his chronometer told Breakdown there were a few hours still before sunrise.

“Well, now that that’s settled, you should get some recharge.”

Knockout just stared at him, watching as Breakdown laid back down on the ground. When he didn’t move, Breakdown tried patting the ground next to him, saying, “Come on. Recharge.”

The barbarian’s optics flickered back to the rest of the crew before returning.

“No.”

Breakdown ex-vented tiredly but let it go. Knockout couldn’t go forever without recharge. And if he had learned anything, it was that things did go smoother when he let Knockout make his own decisions.

“Alright. Well, goodnight.”

His optics had barely offlined for a minute at most before he felt a servo nudging his shoulder. Breakdown only needed to online one of them to see Knockout gazing down at him.

“Did you need something?”

Knockout’s ridges were furrowed.

“You help,” Knockout said, speaking slowly, as if trying to piece together a puzzle as he did. “I say—” The barbarian stopped, grimacing, and then gestured towards his face as he said, “ _suamna_.”

Breakdown’s other optic onlined as he blinked up at Knockout.

“Suamna? What’s that?”

Knockout deflated some before in-venting deeply, steeling himself for another attempt.

“You help.”

“Yeah. I helped you.”

That strengthened Knockout’s resolve and he pushed, “I say–” and gestured as if something else came from his mouth. Another word maybe?

“You say… suamna?”

Knockout’s shoulders slumped.

“No.” He grimaced and corrected, “Yes. No yes?”

With Breakdown just staring in confusion, Knockout pointed at his mouth. “ _Suamna,_ ” he said before then pointing at Breakdown’s mouth. And waiting.

“Are… are asking me what that means in common?”

Breakdown’s confusion just butted with Knockout’s confusion. With an annoyed growl, Knockout’s helm tilted back, as if looking at the stars for how to ask for what he wanted.

“Sorry, I’m not as good at this as you are.”

But immediately Knockout was looking at him again. “No. No sorry,” he insisted with a pointed finger. “You help Knockout. I say–”

“He’s trying to say thank you for helping him, dipstick,” Longhaul grumbled from nearby, his voice edged with static from recharge. “So just let him say thanks so we can all recharge again.”

Breakdown felt his face heat up as Knockout’s optics cycled.

“Thank?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess so,” Breakdown said, chuckling softly. “I helped you, so you want to say thank you?”

Knockout’s optics brightened.

“Yes. Thank.”

Breakdown had to fight back a snort.

“You’re welcome.”

* * *

For all the crazy events of the last day, the next morning was relatively peaceful. The constructicons all woke and started moving around as a unit, waking Bulkhead and Breakdown and leaving them to grumble about gestalts and how they never do anything by halves.

But when Breakdown finally onlined his optics to see beautiful red optics staring back at him, it all came back. And instead of the concerns and anxieties he thought would come with it, Breakdown just smiled.

“Good morning, Knockout.”

Knockout grinned.

“Good morning, Breakdown.”

“Fragging Primus,” Bonecrusher grumbled, “please tell me you’re not gonna keep up this mushy scrap the whole way to Praxis.”

“I’m being polite, aft,” Breakdown replied without any real venom as he sat up and stretched out his arms. “And it’s a teaching opportunity. Unless you’d rather Knockout just shout barbarian at us the whole time.”

“Better than that mushy stuff.”

“ _I_ think it’s cute,” Bulkhead insisted as he clapped Breakdown on the shoulder and used it to push himself up to his pedes. “It’s been forever since I’ve seen ol’ Breaky sweet on somebody.”

“I’m not being sweet! I’m being nice!”

“Is there a difference?” Scrapper asked to the amusement of all the other constructicons.

Breakdown glowered before moving to stand. “Very funny. I hope you’re all getting a good laugh out of me trying to be a decent mech.”

“If we were really making fun of you, we’d do it behind your back.”

“Speak for yourself, Bulkhead.” Mixmaster laughed when Bulkhead playfully punched him in the shoulder.

A servo tapped at Breakdown’s leg, and as soon as Breakdown looked down, Knockout reached it out towards him. “Up,” he insisted, obviously eager to get off the ground. And, once Breakdown grasped his servo and pulled him to his pede, Knockout was quick to test out his brace. He held Breakdown’s servo and arm as he tried shifting his weight. There was no wobbling and Knockout didn’t wince.

With a smug look on his face, Knockout let go of Breakdown’s arm and tried to pull his servo from Breakdown’s, taking a stilted step. Instead of letting go though, Breakdown followed, keeping a hold on Knockout’s servo in case the barbarian was overexerting himself.

Knockout didn’t show any signs of minding as he took a few more steps before looking up at Breakdown, gesturing at his leg as he spoke.

“Did you fix him up last night, Hook?” Scrapper asked, only to have the medic snort.

“No. He decided to do it himself.”

Breakdown had to hold back a snicker at how the entire crew fell into stunned silence.

And Knockout just looked up at them all looking exceedingly pleased with himself.

“Well frag me running,” Bulkhead finally said. “You managed to bag yourself a doctor, Breakdown.”

* * *

Half an hour and dozens of teasing jibes about Breakdown’s situation passed before they were ready hit the road again.

There was some discussion at that point though about how to travel. With Bonecrusher’s arm fixed up, he was fine to transform. While their speed was practically the same walking or not – the constructicons alt-modes were far from fast – it was easier on their frames and energon consumption to drive.

The fact was though that Knockout absolutely could not.

Breakdown considered carrying him again in his root mode, but the soft ache that still echoed in his frame from carrying Knockout for a few hours the day before reminded him that was not likely to go well. He had a strong frame and great endurance, but Knockout was still a large enough mech that it would likely end in hydraulics giving out by the end of the day, if he even made it that long.

“Maybe have him ride your vehicle mode?” Scrapper suggested.

“Maybe if you’re lucky he’ll ride your–”

Longhaul groaned with exasperation as he elbowed Scavenger hard in the chest.

“Too much.”

Scavenger stuck his glossa out at him.

Breakdown refused to let them see the way his face heated as he turned to Knockout, placing his servos on his hips as he considered the medic. It wouldn’t be exactly comfortable, but it would be easier to carry his weight as a vehicle, and his roof was relatively flat. Knockout could sit up there even with his leg in the brace.

Knockout stared up at him, optic ridges quirked as he asked Breakdown a question. Probably why he was staring.

They raised higher though when Breakdown took a step back and then transformed.

“Can you climb up?”

“Up?” Knockout asked distractedly as, instead of approaching Breakdown, he started to walk around him, his optics tracing the lines and corners of his alt-mode. The walk was stilted because of his braced leg, but he still managed a slight swing to his hips as he went. Breakdown was thankful that he had no face to give away the fact that he was starting to heat up again. His alt-mode wasn’t the prettiest by any means – large and boxy, meant for traversing rough terrain instead of aesthetic appeal.

Yet Knockout’s optics glowed brightly, and once he was back at the front of Breakdown’s chassis, his placed his servo on Breakdown’s fender and purred something. His touch was firm.

“Does he need help getting up?” Bulkhead called as he made his way over, and Breakdown silently thanked Primus to have those piercing optics off him for a moment as Knockout looked at Bulkhead approaching.

“To be honest, I’m not sure he actually understands what I’m saying about it.”

Bulkhead nodded and slowed his steps as he got closer. He casually knocked on Breakdown’s roof.

“Breakdown wants you to get up there,” Bulkhead explained, pointing at Knockout and then up at Breakdown’s roof.

The warmth left Knockout’s gaze as he looked at Breakdown again with a purely analytic intent.

Something slipped from his mouth that sounded a lot like a quick prayer before nodding.

“Up,” Knockout repeated reluctantly, resigned to his fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another week, and another adventure in language barriers and cooperation for the boys.
> 
> Thank you all for your lovely comments this week! It really makes my whole day to know that you're enjoying this silly fluff fest.


	4. Chapter 4

Breakdown did his best to keep the ride as smooth as possible for Knockout, but it wasn’t easy. While he did fit on his roof, it was still awkward for them both, especially once Breakdown started moving. Knockout weighed on Breakdown’s hydraulics and his engine had to run harder than usual to keep his tires rolling. Frankly, Breakdown was lucky that his frame was built to withstand heavy loads for his work and that the constructicons’s drove so slowly he could keep up while in recharge.

However, there wasn’t much in the way of traction up there. The ledge above his windshield was perfect for Knockout to grab onto, which was good because otherwise the poor barbarian would have been slipping and sliding with every bounce and jerk on the road.

Still though, Knockout grumbled with every last one.

So Breakdown started doing his best to avoid the holes and bumps, swerving as gently as he could to weave through the path of least resistance. The constructicons had teased his at first as they just rolled over it all effortlessly, but they were quick to find more entertaining things to talk about. Apparently they had finally had their fill of mocking and talked about the things they wanted to do once they hit Praxis.

And, while it might have looked silly, it had made the ride smoother for Knockout. His grip had eased, more a precaution than a necessity anymore.

“Hey, Break?” Bulkhead asked from where he drove next to him.

“Yeah?”

“You sure about all this?” Bulkhead asked. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I agree that it’s the right thing to do. But–”

“‘But’ what? We both know if I wasn’t doing it, you would be,” Breakdown interrupted, and Bulkhead chuckled.

“That’s true. But do you even have the shanix for a doctor?”

That gave Breakdown pause. Gravel crunched under his tires as they went, and while he couldn’t see Knockout particularly well, he could feel the barbarian carefully shifting, having moved from sitting on his aft to laying out on his front a while back, his pedes dangling from the back of Breakdown’s frame. His servos were curled lazily over the edge and his helm nuzzled against his roof twice before he settled down again.

“I have some savings. Should be enough to cover it.”

“Between jobs money you mean,” Bulkhead said quietly.

“I’ll get by. Always do,” Breakdown insisted. “Besides, this is a long job. If I cut back on the highgrade while we’re here, I can probably build it back up in time for the next one.”

Judging from the slowed vibrations from the Knockout’s ventilations, Breakdown was pretty sure he was starting to doze.

“You know I’ll cover you if you need it, right?”

“Bulk–”

“I mean it. If it ends up being too much for ya, I can help.”

“As if you’re any better off than I am.”

“You’re not the only one with savings,” Bulkhead replied, his tone amused as he swayed closer to Breakdown, leaving the action there instead of actually bumping him like he would usually. “So don’t worry about it. Better the both of us have to live cheaply after this job than your broke aft recharging on my floor until the next one.”

“I wouldn’t run myself completely broke,” Breakdown grumbled.

“For your new friend? Yeah you would. You’ve already got that look you get.”

“I do _not_.”

“You would spend your every last shanix paying for anything he needed or wanted and we both know it.”

Breakdown’s engine revved warningly, though he dropped it back down immediately when Knockout squirmed, mumbling as his digits squeezed on his overhang, roused from his light recharge.

Bulkhead snickered.

“You have it bad.”

“What I’m doing is taking you up on that offer to pay for my drinks for the next two years, pal.”

Bulkhead’s engine sputtered as he argued – “That’s not what I meant by covering you!” – and Breakdown’s spark warmed with friendly affection.

* * *

Truthfully, Breakdown was shocked at how much of the day Knockout tried to recharge. Not that it went well – there was only so much that Breakdown could do to keep the ride smooth. While it was a more comfortable ride, it wasn’t so seamless that any mech would be able to recharge for more than a few minutes at a time, if he was lucky.

By the time they finally broke for camp that night, Knockout still looked tired despite his best efforts. Breakdown had expected him to be a little tired – the barbarian doctor had been up long enough to brace his leg – but the way that Knockout’s optics dimmed as he sat by the fire bowl made him look like a mech who had pulled an all-nighter.

“Hey, Hook?” Breakdown asked as he sat next to Knockout, handing him a cube of energon. “Did he have a hard time getting back into recharge last night or something?”

“Don’t think he even tried.” When Breakdown’s face pinched, Hook shrugged. “Dunno what else to tell you. He didn’t even offline his optics or anything.”

“Didn’t recharge during my shift either,” Mixmaster added with an identical shrug. “He kept looking around. I figured he just couldn’t recharge since he’s alone.”

Knockout noticed the crew looking at him now, and stopped sipping at his drink to say something while scooting closer to Breakdown’s side. It was a question, and one that Breakdown thought he might have recognized from before. He could still only guess that it meant “What’re you looking at?”

Breakdown reached around Knockout’s back to pat his shoulder, saying in his best attempt at soothing, “It’s ok, Knockout.” Knockout’s optics narrowed, but he nodded before returning to his energon. It was only then that Breakdown turned back to Mixmaster, asking, “What do you mean ‘alone’? We were all there.”

Mixmaster just shrugged though as he replied, “Sure, but we’re not his mecha, you know?”

Breakdown frowned. It wasn’t uncommon for the gestalt to talk that way – they often referred to each other as their mecha, and it was only after working with them closely for nearly a decade that the gestalt started to occasionally talk about Bulkhead and Breakdown in the same way.

“I doubt he’s a gestalt. I’ve seen the way you guys can get if you’re apart too long.”

“Definitely not,” Longhaul agreed. “But Mixmaster still has a point. He didn’t have a gestalt, but he had a tribe, you know? Mecha he belonged to.“

When Breakdown made a face at that wording, Bonecrusher added, "Could say that they were mecha he could trust.”

“He tried recharging on the way here though,” Bulkhead pointed out.

“Sure. Cause he trusts ol’ Breaky,” Scavenger replied as he gestured towards Breakdown. “He likes the rest of us better than before, but I don’t think any of us would try to say that he trusts us the way he does Breakdown.”

Breakdown frowned deeper.

“I guess. But he’s not gonna last long if the only time he can recharge is riding on my vehicle mode.”

“He’ll get over it,” Hook said as he opened his own cube of energon. “That or his frame will force him into recharge. Either way, he’ll survive.”

“Speaking of, you planning on refueling, Breakdown?” Scrapper was watching him closely, and that was when Breakdown noticed that everyone was breaking into their daily energon. Furthermore, that some of them had noticed he hadn’t taken out another cube for himself.

“Oh, yeah, I guess.” Breakdown reached into his subspace, though he frowned all the more as he did. “You guys didn’t happen to bring extra energon, did you? Because I hadn’t packed for two.”

As a unit, all the constructicons sat up straighter, looking at one another.

“It’s not a big deal though. I’ll manage on half rations or–”

“We’ll take care of it,” Scrapper interrupted. “Put that cube away, dinner is on us.“ Breakdown’s optic ridges furrowed, but he obeyed as he watched Scrapper tilt his helm back and chug nearly the entire cube. However, a small fraction was left at the bottom as he held the cube out towards Longhaul and Scavenger on his left side, and then the other three on his right. Each constructicons poured a similarly sized fraction in until it was full again with their combined contributions.

"Come on, you guys. You don’t have to do that–”

“We’re not the ones carrying a full sized mech all day,” Scrapper stated as he handed the cube to Longhaul. “You’re gonna be burning through it faster than any of us now that you have a passenger, so relax. None of us are going to go hungry.”

It made it around the circle until it was in Bulkhead’s servo, and he shrugged and added his own splash to the cube before pushing it into Breakdown’s servo.

“It’s better than having to give you full cubes later,” Bulkhead agreed.

Breakdown took the cube, though he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with it at first. It was a kind offer, and he _had_ asked, and he _did_ need it. That didn’t stop him from feeling badly about it though. Between this and the conversation with Bulkhead, Breakdown was starting to feel shame slip into the whorls of his spark because he had taken Knockout without actually having the means to back up his claim that he’d take care of him.

Knockout elbowed him. Once Breakdown was looking down at him, the barbarian tilted his helm back towards Scrapper and prompted him, “Say thank.”

The whole crew broke out into startled snickers and Breakdown could feel his face heat up. “You only know like, six words, and you’re already bossing me around?”

“Like you don’t love a bossy mech,” Bulkhead said, somewhere between teasing and just stating a fact.

Breakdown ignored him for Knockout’s quirked ridges as he elbowed him again, and with an ex-vent, he turned back towards the constructicons. “Alright, alright, fine. Thank you.”

“Now that wasn’t too hard, was it?” Scavenger said, acting like it was a mean-spirited comment, but there was no way for him to hide his own smile. He was also watching the way that Knockout patted Breakdown’s arm. “Maybe with Knockout around, you’ll finally learn some manners.”

“And what the frag do you know about manners?” Breakdown snarked before letting his shoulders droop. “Look, I just feel bad about it, that’s all.”

“Don’t,” Hook insisted. “You need it and we have it, so we’re gonna share it.”

“You’re our mech, whether you like it or not, and we take care of our own,” Scrapper said and the rest of the constructicons nodded in agreement with their leader. “And if Knockout’s your mech, then he’s as good as ours too.”

“Look, I get that it’s hard to explain your gestalt scrap in words, but you have got to find a better way of putting that.”

“There’s no reason in doing that as long as you get it, which judging by the dumb look on your face, you do,” Bonecrusher said.

“Shut up,” Breakdown replied, hiding his grin behind a gulp of energon.

* * *

“Come on, Knockout. Just lay down and recharge, would you?”

Knockout sat with his arms crossed, optic ridges raised as Breakdown patted the ground next to him.

“Like they’re doing,” Breakdown tried, pointing at where the constructicons were laid out. Though, unfortunately, they were all not-so-stealthily watching the display. Bulkhead was hardly much better either, snickering from where he sat on a nearby boulder when Knockout looked at them all with disinterest and then back at Breakdown without otherwise moving a single strut.

“No.”

“Why?” Breakdown asked. He knew it wasn’t going to help at all, so he ex-vented as he scrubbed his face. “Forget that. Obviously you can’t tell me. Ok. I can figure this out.”

Knockout’s optic ridges lifted as he watched Breakdown. His optics were literally dimming before Breakdown’s own, but still the barbarian resisted, shaking his helm when he would slip too far. And his optics did keep straying towards the rest of the crew, but they also strayed out into the wilds around them. His claws lightly tapped his arms.

Knockout spoke and held himself confidently, but there was enough slipping through for Breakdown to notice that he was, most definitely, at least nervous.

Chin in hand, Breakdown considered the barbarian.

“You scared about somebody attacking you while you’re recharging?” When Knockout didn’t react beyond confused staring, Breakdown pointed at him, and repeated, “You’re scared about somebody attacking,” as he then pointed out into the wildness and then lightly pounding his fist into his palm.

Knockout just looked more confused and truthfully a little concerned.

Breakdown let out a long ex-vent.

“Forget that too. I’m too fragging tired for charades. Look, Knockout,” he said, straightening so he sat up right and placed a servo above his where his spark lay, “you’re safe with me, ok? You can recharge because nobody is gonna mess with you while I’m around.”

The confusion remained, but he could see that Knockout’s frame eased a bit at his tone. So the barbarian didn’t understand, but the sentiment he could derive from Breakdown’s voice was helping, so Breakdown could go along with that.

“How about this? You can recharge with me. I’ll literally have your back.” Breakdown unfolded his legs and made a space between them, patting his servo on the ground there. “I’d offer to do it laying down but frankly my frame doesn’t let me sleep on my side, and I doubt yours does either. I don’t mind sitting with my back against this crystal though. And—Knockout?”

Breakdown was certainly used to Knockout looking as if he wasn’t listening – they both wore that expression a fair amount when the other spoke since it was nigh impossible to derive meaning from the sounds themselves, so they usually were focused more on the other’s body language and facial expressions and tone.

And, to be fair, Knockout was certainly focused on his body.

The barbarian’s optics were burning far brighter than before as they traced the lines of Breakdown’s frame, lingering on – well, there was really no subtle way to put it. Knockout was staring at Breakdown’s crotch and hips. Breakdown even glanced down to make sure his panels hadn’t somehow malfunctioned but, no, he was still covered. When he looked up at Knockout again, the medic was staring back with an amused look, optics ridges high and, _Primus_ , he licked his lips.

Breakdown had never really understood the concept of nudity beyond its definition until that very moment as he strongly considered snapping his thighs closed. His face felt as if it was going to melt right off.

Because right. Of course.

As far as Knockout was concerned, Breakdown was always walking around naked, and this particular position was probably outright provocative.

The only saving grace that Primus had given him was that the rest of the crew wouldn’t have been able to see Knockout’s face from where they were laying. Bulkhead definitely looked intrigued, but Knockout’s face would have been in shadows for him. If any of them could have seen, Breakdown knew they would have never, in a million years, let him live this down.

Breakdown didn’t close his legs, but it was a close call as he said, “Knockout, optics up here and pay attention, would ya?” while pointing at his face.

“Sorry,” Knockout said as his optics refocused on Breakdown’s face, not sounding the least bit apologetic about it. His amusement certainly hadn’t disappeared as he scooted closer.

Bulkhead burst into muffled snickers that Breakdown pointedly ignored.

“You’re a menace,” Breakdown grumbled, and even he could hear the affection in it as he reached out to lightly grasp at Knockout’s arm. “Just get over here would you?”

“Menace?” Knockout asked, even as he let himself be tugged closer.

“Yep. A smart-mouthed menace.”

“You don’t even know what he’s saying most of the time,” Bulkhead pointed out, finally breaking his silence, and Breakdown snorted.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t tell he’s got a smart mouth.” It took a little maneuvering, but Breakdown managed to get Knockout to turn so his back was to him, and then pulled him flush against his chest. That definitely caught the barbarian’s attention as his back stiffened and a startled yelp escaped his mouth before Knockout snapped it shut.

Breakdown leaned over as best he could to peer at Knockout’s face.

“You ok, Knockout?”

Knockout nodded his helm even as he turned away from where Breakdown was trying to look down at him.

“Hey, come on, look at me,” Breakdown said, reaching out to tip Knockout’s face up and towards him. He wasn’t nearly as forceful as Knockout could be when he had Breakdown by the chin – just gentle leading that Knockout could fight if he didn’t want to go. But he did, ex-venting as he did, the air hot against Breakdown’s servo.

Breakdown was floored to see the barbarian look, of all things, _flustered._ His face was warm and Knockout’s cooling fans definitely spun a couple times before they were turned back off quickly. Knockout’s expression was somewhere between nervous and hopeful and unsure.

Breakdown spark pulsed hard in his chest, even as he chuckled warmly.

“As much as I’d love to return the favor and tease you, that’s not gonna get you into recharge,” Breakdown said as he pulled his servo away and leaned back against the large crystal formation behind him. When Knockout twisted a bit to look back at him, his optic ridges furrowed, Breakdown continued, slower and more simply so that Knockout might actually understand, “You’re safe here. Recharge with me.”

Knockout blinked at him, glancing down at where their frames still touched, back at the rest of the crew, back at Breakdown’s face.

“I might be naked, but I’m not coming onto you, ok? Promise. You’re safe with me.”

After a few more glances, Knockout’s frame slowly relaxed as he turned and leaned his full weight against Breakdown’s chest. The tires on his back shifted down and flat against his frame, reminding Breakdown of the doorwings or occasionally true wings he had admired on other mecha, and they tucked beneath Breakdown’s prominent chest neatly. That left Knockout’s helm to rest back against his chest, fitting perfectly with Breakdown.

A fact that Knockout didn’t seem to miss as he purred something sweet sounding while nuzzling back and settling himself comfortably.

"So, will you recharge?”

Knockout hummed.

“Yes,” he finally settled on, voice already edged with exhaustion and his optics offlined. “Breakdown safe.”

Breakdown would have sworn that his spark nearly broke its way out of his chest at that. While it didn’t, he could feel the dumb smile on his face.

“Goodnight, Breakdown.”

“Goodnight, Knockout.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I probably sound like a broken record at this point, but oh my goodness, thank you all so much for your support! All those kudos and comments really brightened my week and had me smiling every time a new one rolled in. You're all really the best.
> 
> Also, sorry this chapter is a little short, but it was just too good a place to end the chapter. Hopefully that cuddling content makes up for it.


	5. Chapter 5

By the time that Breakdown woke up from recharge, Knockout was staring up at him with wide, bright optics, slung across his lap instead of where he had been settled in it before, and frankly, the barbarian nearly looked full to bursting with energy.

“Good morning,” Knockout crooned as he reached up to pat Breakdown’s cheek. From behind him, he heard several loud, relieved sounding ex-vents. Everyone else was online and milling around, and Breakdown was surprised he had recharged through it all. His best guess was that the extra effort exerted to carry Knockout had drained him more than he had realized and put him into a deeper recharge than usual.

“Thank Primus you’re up,” Hook said from where he was helping Mixmaster put out the flame. “He’s been talking a mile a minute since he onlined and I’ve had about as much of his babbling as I care to hear.”

“I think it’s kinda cute,” Scavenger said.

“Because he gives you a run for your money,” Bonecrusher quipped.

The rest of their conversation was a blur though as Knockout caught his attention and started talking to him. First was a “thank” with the rest of his words meaning nothing to Breakdown, though he guessed it was for the other night. Whatever it was, it had Knockout smiling as he recounted it, before he patted Breakdown’s shoulder and insisted, “I want up.”

It took maneuvering but once Breakdown had moved Knockout off his lap and he got to his pedes, he pulled Knockout up after him. The brace still made him wary, but Knockout didn’t seem to think twice about it as he strolled around the campsite, his servos moving as he spoke to Breakdown.

And no, Breakdown had to admit, he didn’t catch the vast, _vast_ majority of it. But sometimes Knockout would stop and slow his words, gesturing as he did, waiting for Breakdown to catch on.

“So, wait, you know this area then?” Breakdown asked as Knockout had pointed to yet another hillside off in the distance and spoke casually about it. When Knockout paused to listen to him, Breakdown repeated himself, pointing at Knockout and then back out at the location that Knockout had gestured to.

“Yes,” Knockout said with a grin, turning on his pedes and taking a couple of stilted steps backwards so he could look up at Breakdown. Truthfully, the barbarian seemed unable to stay still, and Breakdown couldn’t say he was surprised. Knockout had taken maybe a dozen steps since getting the brace, since up until now he had been tired and weary from lack of recharge. But now, he seemed filled with restless energy.

Considering how fast his tribesmecha had been able to run, Breakdown wondered if running in general was a regular part of Knockout’s life. If so, it was no wonder he was acting like a cooped up turbofox as he paced around the campsite.

“I stay here,” he continued, pointing out at the hillside again.

“You stayed there.”

Knockout just blinked before correcting, “I stayed there,” and then slowly moved his pointer to a tall mountain way off in the distance. “And I stayed there.” And then he turned on his good heel, humming with thought before pointing down the hill where several acid lakes laid. “And I stayed there.”

Breakdown nodded, though he couldn’t help a small frown.

“All those places? Didn’t you have a home?” When Knockout stared up at him, waiting for more, Breakdown said, “A home. One place you stayed,” as he lifted one digit.

Knockout tilted his helm, repeating Breakdown’s words softly, more to himself as he lost himself in thought. Probably trying to decipher it.

“Breakdown! Get Knockout loaded. We’re heading out.”

Breakdown ex-vented before starting to walk towards the group. “Sorry, Knockout, but we have to go. We’ll talk more though, ok?”

Knockout just nodded and followed. His optics definitely lingered on Breakdown’s frame when he transformed, and he stroked his servo along Breakdown’s door. It was enough to have Breakdown rocking on his tires. “You really like my vehicle mode, huh?” he asked, aiming for humor but ending up just sounding a bit flustered.

With a smile, a few words, and a pat on the door, Knockout finally took a step back and turned his helm.

“Bulkhead?” When Bulkhead turned to face Knockout, optics wide, the barbarian pointed at Breakdown and said, “I want up.”

“I think that’s the first time you’ve actually talked to me,” Bulkhead said, smiling brightly as he walked over. “No worries, Knockout, I’ve got you. Let’s get you up and settled.”

* * *

Knockout’s digits drummed against Breakdown’s roof after he shifted from his stomach back onto his aft yet again.

Which was fine, if Knockout hadn’t been doing it on and off for hours.

It wasn’t like Breakdown could blame him – driving during the day was honestly the most tedious part of travelling. The first few days would be full of conversation, but it always slowed after that. They usually tried to fit in another town or city to visit along the way if they could to liven it up, but the path between Tarn and Praxis was one that any detour they could have taken wouldn’t have been worth the added days of travel.

It was a long, boring trip.

Truthfully, the mindless boredom of it would have started to take over a couple days back had it not been for the encounter with the barbarians and picking Knockout up. That had been exciting for them all.

But the fact was that communication with Knockout was already difficult, and when travelling like this, it was all but impossible. So while the constructicons and Bulkhead could recount former affairs, both good and bad, and Breakdown could laugh along with them and throw in his two shanix now and again, there was little in it all for Knockout to enjoy.

“—And he was talking about how maybe we should take it slow, as if we had the time for that!” Mixmaster said, his tires slowing a bit to emphasize his point as he did. “So I told him look, my mecha and I, we’re only here for another month before heading to Kaon. I don’t mean to be pushy, but if you want in, we’re gonna have to go fast!”

His tires spun on the crumbling gravel and dust, jumping ahead a couple units in front of the group with his laugh.

Knockout’s digits paused.

“Breakdown?”

“Yeah, Knockout?”

“Fast?” he asked, looking for clarification.

“Fast is, uh,” Breakdown said before pausing. He wouldn’t be able to explain it with words even if Knockout could understand him. So instead he slowed his acceleration, saying, “This is driving slow,” and then picking up his pace suddenly, Knockout’s grip on his roof ledge keeping him from tumbling backward, “and this is driving fast.”

The barbarian’s grip tightened further.

“I want driving fast,” he insisted, shifting on Breakdown’s roof so he was sat upright like a mech riding a wild mechanimal.

Breakdown returned to his usual pace though, replying, “Can’t do that, Knockout. We all drive slow.”

“Why?”

Breakdown wasn’t even surprised by Knockout’s continually growing vocabulary anymore.

“Some of the constructicons can’t drive fast, and we all travel together, so we drive slow.”

“Constructicons drive fast.”

“I just told you, they can’t. Can’t means no. Can means yes.”

Knockout pondered that a bit.

“Constructicons can’t drive fast.”

“Yeah.”

“You can’t drive fast?”

“I—I mean, I’m not the fastest mech around, but I can drive faster than this,” Breakdown insisted, his engine rumbling defensively.

“You _can_ drive fast?” Knockout tried again, and Breakdown didn’t need to see the barbarian to hear the eagerness in his voice.

“Yeah, I can, but I don’t.”

“Don’t?”

“It’s like can’t,” Breakdown tried. “But it’s—it’s different.”

“Don’t means no.”

“Yeah.”

Knockout ex-vented with disappointment, letting go of his grip to flop back on Breakdown’s roof. However, no more argument came of it. While Breakdown was pretty sure Knockout didn’t fully understand the nuance of what he was trying to explain, the barbarian still accepted his decision. So Knockout settled down, hooking one pede under Breakdown’s ledge and one of his servos over his side to keep himself in place, staring up at the sky.

And then the digit drumming came back.

Knockout was restless, and frankly it was starting to get to Breakdown too. Their first full day together without Knockout spending it in a recharge-deprived state, and it was just wasted slowly making their way across gravel.

And, alright. Maybe Breakdown did want to show off a bit.

“I mean, we could always off-road a bit. No harm in that, you know?” Knockout’s drumming stopped as he hummed inquisitively. If Breakdown could have in his vehicle mode, he would have grinned. “We could drive fast for a little while.”

That had Knockout sitting up quickly.

“Yes,” he purred, quickly shifting so he had a good hold on Breakdown’s roof ledge.

Breakdown’s engine roared with his excited revving, tires spinning in the gravel and kicking up a cloud of dust and debris as he shouted, “We’ll catch up with you guys down the road!”

Scrapper barely managed a “What the _frag_?” before Breakdown released his brake and was off like a shot, veering off the path to speed across the rolling hill off to their side. Knockout’s servos were practically scraping paint off Breakdown’s ledge with how fiercely he held on, but ecstatic laughter belied his excitement. The bumpiness as Breakdown crushed crystalline flora under his tires didn’t seem to bother Knockout at all as the barbarian simply hooked his good leg over Breakdown’s side and his braced leg just hooked his heel over the other, all but straddling Breakdown’s roof to stabilize himself as he settled in for the ride.

Once over the crest of the hill, Breakdown all but barreled down it at top speeds, whooping loudly as the wind whipped along his chassis and Knockout’s frame bounced and tugged and held tight to his frame. It was exhilarating to actually push his systems, his engine roaring and his tires burning.

And judging from Knockout’s lively hooting, slapping at Breakdown’s roof once they leveled out again while pointing with his other servo at a natural path between craggy hills, the barbarian was enjoying himself just as much.

Breakdown’s spark burned bright in his chest as he laughed.

“That way, huh? Alright, but hold on tight!”

Knockout’s digits dug in as he crowed with delight when Breakdown turned as sharp as he dared with his passenger, tires skidding until they gained traction again.

And then they were off.

* * *

Breakdown quickly lost track of time climbing and then careening down hills, weaving between crystal growths, gunning it across fields – all with Knockout’s delighted cheering as he egged him on further and harder and faster.

It was just so much _fun_.

But eventually, as they came to the end of a long natural path between a hill and a metal outcropping, Breakdown slowed before transforming back to his root form. He caught Knockout in his arms as he did while the barbarian broke into surprised laughter, easily wrapping his arms around Breakdown’s shoulders until he was set down on his pedes. And then with a huge in-take of cool air, Breakdown fell back onto the ground and let an equally large a blast of scalding hot steam out of his vents, a huge grin on his face.

“Breakdown?” Knockout asked, awkwardly bending over so he could look down at Breakdown’s face. He wore a wide smile too, ventilations quick from the excitement of the ride and holding onto Breakdown, but there was a trace of concern pulling at it now.

“I’m fine,” Breakdown reassured him. He reached his arms over his helm and stretched out his whole frame, allowing the heat that his vents could not release fast enough to escape out gaps in his armor. “Better than fine, actually. I’m fragging _great_. But I’m also overheated from driving so hard with you weighing me down.”

“‘Weighing me down’?”

Breakdown lifted one hand, saying, “This is me,” and then lifted the other and placing it on top, pushing down a bit, “and this is you weighing me down.”

Knockout made a noise of understanding and replied, “Sorry I weighing you down.”

“Don’t be sorry. I had a lot of fun.” Breakdown looked up, searching Knockout’s face as he said, “Seemed like you had fun too. You get what you wanted?”

Knockout’s optics brightened and his smile softened.

“Yes. Thank.”

“It’s thanks,” Breakdown kindly corrected as he stretched another time, prolonging it as the air wavered around where the heat escaped. And alright, maybe he liked the way that Knockout’s optics trailed down his frame as he did. “And you’re welcome. That was seriously fragging awesome.”

Language barrier or not, it was easy to know Knockout was essentially saying “I told you so” as he smirked. He stretched his arms up above his helm as well and shifted from one pede to the other, no doubt releasing any tension in his hydraulics from having to hang on so tight for so long. Exciting adventure or no, Knockout had still been off his pedes all day, so it wasn’t a surprise that he stayed on them, pacing a bit as he gazed across the field in front of them.

Which gave Breakdown a moment to just watch him.

It wasn’t that Breakdown ever forgot that the barbarian was gorgeous – that would have been an impossible feat for anyone with optics. But between traveling, figuring out Knockout’s needs and wants, and poorly attempted language lessons, Knockout’s beauty was something noticed in passing. It was in the brief moments in between, when Knockout would smile at him when offered energon or when the light from the campfire would hit him just right and it almost seemed like his armor glowed.

Even then, it was just a simple fact that wasn’t particularly relevant to anything else.

But having Knockout pace languidly by him, brilliant in the light of day and engine lightly purring in contentment after having spent the last hour driving and goofing around with Breakdown? To actually connect that handsome face with the rich baritone of his voice when he laughed and teased Breakdown, and those bold and colorful curves with the frame that had just the night before been curled up against Breakdown’s in recharge because he trusted him? To know that behind that pretty face and piercing optics was a brilliant processor with a quick wit that Breakdown longed to understand?

Breakdown’s spark thundered in his chest.

And when Knockout caught his staring and grinned warmly, Breakdown realized how right his friends had been.

He absolutely had it bad for Knockout.

Thankfully, the realization was hidden by the fact that Breakdown’s frame was already overheated to start with, his cooling fans already blasting air. There was no way for Knockout to notice, even as he carefully bent his good knee to finally plop himself onto the ground next to Breakdown and murmured something wistful sounding.

“Shanix for your thought?” Breakdown said, hoping that maybe conversation would distract him. Knockout cycled his optics and got that far away look he wore when he was working hard to fit the pieces of the language puzzle he had available to him together.

“I want drive fast with Breakdown,” Knockout explained, and yes, it was definitely wistfulness he spoke with.

“I mean, we’re gonna in a bit. It’ll only be a couple more minutes for me to cool off and then we’ll hit the road to meet up with the crew again.”

“No.” Knockout reached his arm over his shoulder, patting one of his tires on his back. “I can’t drive fast with leg.”

Breakdown could have sworn his spark flipped.

“Oh. You mean together. Well, I mean, we can drive together outside of Praxis once your leg is fixed, if you still want to,” Breakdown offered.

Knockout grinned, replying almost immediately, “Once leg is fixed, yes. I want drive fast with you.”

“It’s a plan then.”

Breakdown smiled back, even as his tanks roiled with the thought that it would probably be the last thing they got to do before Knockout left to join his tribe again.

He started to wish the long, boring trip to Praxis could have been even longer.

* * *

Scrapper was _very_ distraught about the joy ride when Breakdown finally caught up with the crew.

“What in the _pits_ were you thinking? What would you have done if some mechanimal had caught you? If you had gone and gotten yourself slagged and stranded out there and we’d have no idea how to find you?”

Breakdown had been ready for it though. It was hardly the first time the crew leader had chewed him out, and it wouldn’t be the last.

What he hadn’t been ready for was Knockout leaning over his windshield towards Scrapper and interrupting him with calm and casual tutting.

“ _I_ say I want drive fast,” the barbarian explained with a professional sounding tone that belied the lack of eloquence he had speaking common, his servo gesturing beseechingly.

Scrapper’s engine sputtered, though it was Mixmaster that shouted from beside him, “You taking the blame for Breakdown?!”

“Knockout, it’s ok, you don’t have to–”

Knockout shushed Breakdown as he patted his roof. “I want drive fast, I taking the blame.”

That brought Scrapper up short. The front-end loader’s scoop jittered up and down as the constructicon considered the turn of events before a harsh ex-vent whooshed from him.

“Knockout, don’t tell Breakdown to go joy riding – er, driving fast without talking to me about it first. If we don’t know where you are, we can’t help you if you need it. Do you understand?”

“Yes and no,” Knockout admitted. “I say drive fast with you, Scrapper?”

“Uh, yes,” Scrapper replied, slowly at first as he picked apart Knockout’s meaning. “You tell me when you want to drive fast.”

“Constructicons help if I need it?”

“That wasn’t my point, but that is true, yeah.”

Knockout took a few seconds to interpret the conversation to the best of his abilities before saying, “Yes, I understand.”

“And I hear you loud and clear, Scrapper,” Breakdown added, knowing that Scrapper felt torn since technically he wasn’t in any position to tell Knockout what to do – he wasn’t a member of the crew in an official capacity, after all. But Breakdown was and he knew he had acted too recklessly for Scrapper’s tastes. “Didn’t mean to worry you guys. Won’t happen again.”

Scrapper was silent for a bit before, finally, saying, “Well, good. Just stay within optic-sight next time at least, would you?”

“You sure about that?” Longhaul asked, his scoop shifting as he spoke. “Because I sure as slag don’t want to watch them swap fluids.”

Breakdown released a long and low ex-vent as the constructicons snickered and Bulkhead let out a loud laugh.

But he was distracted by the Knockout’s servos curling around his ledge with practiced ease as Breakdown started down the road again and the way it made his spark pulse in his chassis.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's chapter hitting y'all a liiiiittle bit early because it's so hard to not want to share everything i have with y'all, haha. Plus last week's chapter was a touch short and so is this one, so it balances out. :P
> 
> And heeeere's the broken record that holy moly, you guys, i just. You kill me with your comments and support!!!! I'll have time to reply to you soon but know that I read them all and every comment has me grinning like an idiot. I hope you continue to enjoy as we start to delve into ~feelings~
> 
> Also if you wanted a little mood music, this song has very quickly become my Breakdown song for this fic, haha.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QoOpKGEcEl8


	6. Chapter 6

While Breakdown had no regrets about having a little adventure with Knockout, his frame ached strut-deep and his tank was running on fumes when Scrapper finally called for them to make camp for the night. His chassis drooped to the ground as he waited for Knockout to be lifted off by Bulkhead, and when he finally transformed Breakdown just plopped onto the ground with a groan.

The long days of carrying were stacking up and the joyriding hadn’t helped.

“You alright, Break?” Bulkhead asked, expression concerned as he knelt at his side. Knockout was just as quick, bending at the waist and reaching out to cup Breakdown’s face, saying his name questioningly as his optics scanned his frame.

Breakdown waved Bulkhead off and gently took Knockout’s wrists in his servos to pull them away. “I’m fine, you worrybots. Just tired and ready to refuel, that’s all.”

Bulkhead hummed noncommittally as he reached back into his subspace.

“I’ll carry him tomorrow, ok?”

Said barbarian had pulled his servos free of Breakdown’s grip, frowning as he scolded Breakdown and was touching him again. Knockout tipped Breakdown’s helm to one side and Breakdown let him since he seemed determined.

“I’ve got it, Bulkhead. It’s only for a couple more days anywa—hey!”

Carefully but firmly, and certainly without warning, Knockout slipped his clawed digit under the plating of Breakdown’s neck to press against a fuel line. His other servo had grasped him by his helm ornamentation, keeping him still when Breakdown jerked.

“Stay here,” Knockout insisted as he held his digit to the tubing.

“Knockout, you don’t need to–”

The servo holding his helm moved to settle across Breakdown’s mouth, muffling his complaints. Trying to twist his helm away resulted in the hold tightening, claws pressed threateningly against his cheeks until Breakdown stopped.

Bulkhead was crumpling into silent hysterics.

The constructicons weren’t nearly as quiet. They were absolutely cackling among themselves, and Hook in particular watched with glee and no little amount of respect as he said, “A medic after my own spark.”

Breakdown protested then, grumbling against Knockout’s palm, but the barbarian paid him no heed as he finally removed his digit from Breakdown’s neck. However, the servo on his mouth remained as Knockout looked at his chest, optics cycling with consideration.

Sure, it was something one would expect from a sparkling, but Breakdown never claimed he couldn’t be petty. So without a second thought, he opened his mouth to press his glossa to Knockout’s servo, licking him.

Knockout’s optics widened and his armor hitched up with surprise. However, his servo didn’t jerk away like Breakdown had hoped and the barbarian didn’t even look disgusted. If anything, when Knockout caught his gaze, he smirked, clearly amused as his optics glittered.

“Not here,” he said – no, _purred_ , the fragger _purred_ it – and Breakdown felt his pulserate spike.

Oh primus.

It was one thing to assume Knockout was making suggestive comments based on how he acted and spoke, but it was a whole other thing to have him actually do so in common.

Breakdown’s glossa was back in his mouth behind tightly sealed lips instantly.

Knockout snickered, but he also moved his servo so that only one digit was pressed to Breakdown’s mouth, making sure that Breakdown still understood that he should be quiet. When Breakdown didn’t immediately start speaking, the barbarian bent and tilted his helm, pressing his audial into the small divot of Breakdown’s chest plate.

And then he stayed there, not moving.

“What’re you–?”

The digit pressed against his mouth and with a huff Breakdown obliged and silenced himself again.

“What’s he doing?” Scavenger whispered to Hook.

“Probably trying to hear Breakdown’s spark through that big chest of his.” Hook ex-vented as he settled down next to the fire that Mixmaster was building. “Checking his basic vitals – fuelpressure and pulserate. If Break is telling the truth, then he’ll just find that the fuelpressure rate is low, but acceptable, and his pulserate–” Hook paused, resting his chin on his servo as he stared at Breakdown’s expression.

And then he smirked.

“That’s definitely elevated right now, isn’t it, big guy?”

Breakdown scowled at him, even as his processor started to race, because frag, it _was_ , and if Knockout noticed – what would he even do? Either Knockout would think something was wrong and Breakdown would have to somehow explain it while trying to hide the real reason, or Knockout would know exactly why his spark was thumping in his chest.

He gritted his dentae when Knockout finally lifted his helm.

And just smiled as he announced, “You fine,” with a pat to Breakdown’s chest.

Breakdown blinked back at Knockout, but the barbarian had already moved away – though not without a little tap on Breakdown’s lips with his digit – and sat down next to him. His digit was now pointed at Bulkhead. “Say thanks.”

Bulkhead’s chuckle finally snapped Breakdown out of his thoughts and he took the offered cube to drain with a word of gratitude.

The rest of the evening was filled with Knockout pointing at things and making the crew tell him the words for them. While they had been tired of his chatter that morning, now the constructicons seemed eager to engage with him, particularly since Knockout would ask them each by name, and it quickly became a game to see who could teach the barbarian the most words.

And, truthfully, they were probably running out of things to talk about anyway.

But there was no denying that Knockout knew how to make himself charming, and now that he was opening up with the rest of the crew, they were nearly as easily swayed as Breakdown.

All the while, Knockout had slipped himself under Breakdown’s arm and was snuggled up against Breakdown’s side, having found through trial and error just the right way to shift his armor so they fit together.

Primus did Breakdown wish now more than ever that somehow these language lessons could accelerate exponentially so that Knockout and he could communicate without any barriers. What had been just initial attraction was quickly showing itself to be true infatuation that was only getting worse every hour, every _minute_. Worst still that there was no denying that Knockout was always quick to tease and flirt with Breakdown, rarely bothering to hide how his optics would drink in Breakdown’s frame. And he _trusted_ Breakdown.

It was completely possible that Knockout was genuinely interested in Breakdown in return.

But Knockout was a barbarian. Knockout had his own tribe, mecha he belonged with – his own language and culture and life out here in the wilds.

And Breakdown was his ticket to getting his leg fixed so he could return to that life.

This was temporary.

While the majority of Breakdown’s life was temporary because of his work – only staying in some cities for at longest a couple years and at shortest mere months, with his only constant being his crew, his _friends_ – he had long figured out he was terrible at temporary affairs.

Breakdown hated to let go of the ones he held close.

But there was no way of telling Knockout that. No way of talking about what, exactly, the barbarian wanted from him. To know if letting himself fall into what was drawing them together could actually lead to anything but his own spark being crushed when Knockout left.

Because _frag_.

It was hard to argue with his spark when it longed like this.

So, despite the way it made his processor race with all the ways it could go wrong, Breakdown couldn’t help closing his servo around Knockout’s shoulder to hold him against his side, ignoring the looks it got him from his friends and how his spark swelled when Knockout’s engine purred.

He was so completely and utterly fragged.

* * *

“At least take the second shift so you can recharge first,” Bulkhead reasoned, but Breakdown shook his helm as he got to his pedes. His frame protested but that was easy enough to ignore.

“So you can ‘forget’ to wake me up for my shift? No way. I know your tricks.”

Knockout was looking up at him from where the barbarian was still seated on the ground, glancing back and forth as the two argued.

“You’re exhausted though. Come on, Hook, back me up on this!”

“I’m not in the habit of handing out medical advice that’s just going to be ignored,” Hook said dismissively as he settled himself to lie down between Longhaul and Bonecrusher. “Breakdown can run himself into the ground if he so desperately wants to.”

“I’m not doing that! I’ll be fine.”

Hook snorted but said nothing else as Longhaul curled up against his side and Bonecrusher scooted closer. The rest of the constructicons were following suit, finding their places pressed close together.

Bulkhead was frowning, his optics cycling as he considered how far he’d push the argument. They were both stubborn afts.

So Breakdown tried to cut him off before he could start again.

“Look,” Breakdown said, servos braced on his hips, “I already skipped my last watch duty because of the fight, _and_ I’m already relying on you guys to stay fueled. I’m not gonna be any more of a burden to this team.”

Scrapper sat up quickly, ignoring Mixmaster’s grunt in complaint next to him. “Now hold on. You’re _not_ a burden, Breakdown. This is a situation that none of us could have foreseen happening, and we’re helping support you where we can, and that’s it. Understood?”

Breakdown shifted from one pede to the other, ignoring the victorious look on Bulkhead’s face. But when Scrapper continued to stare at him expectantly, he ex-vented and said, “Yeah, I gotcha, boss.”

“Good. Take your watch shift, but know that if it does result in you being too tired to carry Knockout tomorrow, then we’ll see if we can’t get him to agree to ride somebody else for the day and give your frame a break.” He looked from Breakdown to Bulkhead and back. “Can we all accept that?”

Bulkhead huffed out an exasperated ex-vent at the same moment that Breakdown did and they both nodded.

“Great. Now shut it so the rest of us can recharge, would ya?” Bonecrusher grumbled as Scavenger’s servo reached up to grab Scrapper and pull him back down. With the problem solved, the constructicons settled into recharge quickly, and even Bulkhead’s systems quieted when he gave up and laid down to recharge.

Though not without one last knowing look when Knockout didn’t follow suit, instead still staring up at Breakdown.

“No recharge?” Knockout asked, and when Breakdown looked down at the barbarian, it was clear he was disapproving.

“Not yet. Later though. But you can still recharge.”

“No,” Knockout insisted as he raised his hand expectantly. “You don’t recharge, I don’t recharge.”

Breakdown pulled him up onto his pedes even as he frowned at Knockout. “One of these days you’re going to know enough common that I can actually argue with you.”

“What is ‘argue’?” Knockout followed as Breakdown walked to the outcropping from the cliff they had camped by. It was high enough that Breakdown had to grab the ledge and, with a hop, haul himself up. Once on it, he sat on his aft, shins hanging over the edge as he reached for Knockout’s already outstretched servo.

“It’s, uh, like talking,” he explained before interrupting himself with a grunt as he pulled Knockout up. It was a bit of a scramble, but once Knockout got his good pede into a solid crack in the metal cliff, he pushed up to help Breakdown lift his weight up onto the ledge. With quick maneuvering, Knockout was settled with his back against Breakdown’s side, his good leg hanging over the edge and his braced one straight up on the flat surface. Breakdown hadn’t even needed to think twice before his arm was moving so that Knockout could fit in the space between it and his chest, though his servo hovered, unsure where to rest.

Knockout was quick to grab his wrist and pull until his arm blanketed the barbarian’s chest, his servo lightly held against Knockout’s abdomen by his own servo laid atop it.

“Like talking but different?”

“Y-yeah,” Breakdown managed, his spark racing, but pleasantly so. “It’s what Bulkhead and I were just doing.”

Knockout’s helm tilted until the back of it rested atop Breakdown’s chest, smirking at him as he lifted his hands. He opened and closed his servos while babbling with a comically angry voice, the words nothing like his own language so they were definitely nonsense. After a moment, Breakdown realized the servos were supposed to be mouths.

As soon as it hit him that it was supposed to be him and Bulkhead in Knockout’s best impression of what common sounded like to him, Breakdown clamped his mouth shut to stifle the snickers building in his chassis, not wanting to wake up the rest of the crew.

“Yeah, you definitely get it.”

Knockout grinned victoriously as he dropped his servos back down, one of them settling over Breakdown’s as it had before, as if it was nothing special to all but hold Breakdown’s servo.

“You can’t argue with me,” Knockout said, his tone amused enough that it was clear that it wasn’t an order – it was a challenge if ever Breakdown had heard one.

“Oh? You sound pretty confident about that.”

“Yes.”

Breakdown hemmed and hawed for a minute as Knockout watched him with keen optics.

“You should recharge,” he settled on. An easy enough argument for Knockout to understand.

Knockout’s optics flared with intrigue as he replied, “No.”

“You need it. Even if your frame can’t actually fix itself completely, it’s still gotta be in self-repair mode, so you need recharge.”

The barbarian hummed, as if he was actually considering it even though Breakdown doubted he understood him completely, before repeating, “No.”

“Come on. You’re tired, aren’t you?”

“No.”

“I promise I’ll be recharging later. But just because I’m on watch duty doesn’t mean you should skip on recharge too.”

“No,” Knockout insisted as he grinned wider.

Breakdown pursed his lips as he thought about his next line of action. “Ok, well, maybe we can make a deal. What do you want that I can give you to get you to recharge?”

Knockout’s optics went hazy as he picked apart the sentence for meaning.

“I want, you give, I recharge,” Knockout said slowly, repeating the sequence of proposed events to the best of his understanding.

“Yeah, exactly. So tell me what you want in exchange for recharging.”

Knockout’s digits stroked the back of Breakdown’s servo as he smiled up at him, his free servo reaching up towards Breakdown’s face. “I want mouth,” he said, his tone inviting despite his clumsy vocabulary.

Breakdown’s face pinched with confusion.

“Mouth?”

He received a purr of Knockout’s engine as his digits stroked Breakdown’s lips.

“Your mouth with my mouth,” Knockout insisted, his spine arching just enough to tilt his helm back further, his face angled towards Breakdown’s.

Dawning realization had Breakdown’s tank twisting in his chassis.

“You mean a kiss?”

Knockout’s lips curled and his optics flared.

“Yes. A kiss,” he said, looking up at Breakdown expectantly.

Breakdown’s processor screeched to a halt. His temperature skyrocketed, his spark longed, and his lines felt as if they had gone cold with dread.

When he didn’t respond or even move, Knockout’s expression fell a bit as he blinked and asked, “Breakdown?”

Breakdown opened his mouth, but at first nothing came out because he had no idea what he wanted to say.

But, finally, he stammered out, “No.”

Knockout’s expression twisted into confusion as he repeated back, “No?”

Spark and processor were completely at odds with each other, the former desperately protesting and wanting to take it back while the latter stood firm. He couldn’t go down that path with Knockout, not like this, not without knowing—

“Yeah, uh, sorry, but not – not like this, you know?”

Unfortunately, Knockout only looked more confused, his optic ridges furrowing. Worst still was that something far too close to fear was starting to slip into it, and the barbarian shifted, as if to move away from Breakdown.

Breakdown’s arm held firm though, his servo pressing against Knockout’s abdomen to keep him close because the last thing he wanted was for the barbarian to leave.

“Wait, wait, ok – slag, there’s no way you know enough common for us to have this conversation. But listen,” Breakdown started, hoping beyond hope that maybe just saying it counted for something, that whatever Knockout could understand would help. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I mean, I’m pretty obvious – we’re both pretty obvious, right? Obviously I want to. But you’re a barbarian doctor and I’m a city construction worker, so where could this possibly go? You get fixed and go on your way to find your tribe, and I go back to my life, and we never see each other again. I just don’t know if I can–”

Knockout’s digit pressed to Breakdown’s mouth again, but it was like when he had checked Breakdown’s frame earlier – just a sign for him to stop talking for a moment.

So he did, even though his spark thundered in his chest.

Knockout was watching him closely, clearly trying to understand and figure out how to express himself.

“You don’t kiss?” he finally asked slowly as his digit moved away from Breakdown’s lips.

“I mean, I _do_ , but that’s–”

“You don’t want kiss?”

Breakdown’s frame burned and he was sure that Knockout would be able to feel it. “I do, but not – not yet, I guess? Sorry, this doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

Slowly and softly, Knockout’s servo reached out to cup Breakdown’s cheek, keeping optic contact with him.

“You want me?” he asked, and the concern was there again, etched into Knockout’s face.

Before he could think twice, Breakdown’s mouth opened and the word “Yeah” tumbled out, because it was true. Primus but it was so true.

And Knockout smiled up at him in relief, his frame relaxing as an ex-vent he had been holding whooshed from his vents. He murmured something in his own language affectionately, no doubt something along the lines of ‘weird citymech’ followed by gentle chiding as he whapped at Breakdown’s servo under his.

“No kiss yet,” he agreed then, simple and easy as he removed his servo from Breakdown’s face. Knockout shifted just enough to get comfortable against Breakdown, his optics offlining. Seconds went by in silence as Breakdown looked down, incredulous.

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure just what, exactly, had happened. There were definitely things being lost in translation, but Breakdown doubted they were capable of talking them out yet. Most likely it would have to wait until they reached Praxis and a doctor could upload common into Knockout’s processor.

But there was one thing that Breakdown could address.

“Are you recharging?” The barbarian made an affirmative noise and Breakdown couldn’t help the small smirk pulling at his lips. “So I won the argument?”

A moment passed as Knockout pursed his lips.

“No.”

Breakdown couldn’t help chuckling, the anxiety of before slipping away as he replied, “I definitely did if you’re recharging.”

“No,” Knockout insisted, and yes, he was definitely pouting now. “You not won.”

“Whatever makes you feel better. But it’s still true.”

One of Knockout’s optics opened and his ridges raised.

“Menace,” he grumbled and Breakdown chewed on the inside of his cheek to keep his chuckles quiet.

“I won’t argue that.” Having won at least that small battle, Knockout offlined his optic and ex-vented long and slow, his systems slowly powering down.

But Breakdown’s spark still ached in his chest.

“Do you want _me_?” he asked, barely loud enough to even be a whisper.

And, of all things, Knockout smirked.

“Can’t say yet,” he cooed as if he was lightly scolding Breakdown for something he should know. Unfortunately, he had no idea what the barbarian was talking about, and his processor whirled with the confusion.

“What? Why not?”

“Can’t say,” Knockout insisted, and yes, the lilt of his voice made it clear this was a fun game to him.

“Is this because I didn’t kiss you?”

Knockout finally onlined his optics again, though they were dim and hooded. Seeing Breakdown look genuinely bewildered softened his smirk and his hold on Breakdown’s servo tightened. “No,” he replied, his mouth still open as if to say more, but nothing came out. Knockout blinked, his expression distant, trying to find words. Ultimately he found none so instead he spoke reassuringly in his own language while stroking his thumb along Breakdown’s. It sounded like an explanation with compliments thrown in, not that Breakdown understood any of them.

But his spark eased in his chest.

Breakdown pressed a finger to Knockout’s lips, snickering at the look of indignation.

“Alright, alright, I get it. You can’t say yet, and it’s nothing personal.”

Knockout stared at him and looked relieved.

And then his lips curled wickedly as he flicked his glossa out to drag up Breakdown’s digit. Breakdown jerked as he ripped his servo away to Knockout’s delight as the barbarian snickered, and it only grew louder when Breakdown’s cooling fans gently started to spin before he could stop them.

“ _Primus_ , Knockout. You gotta warn a guy before doing that,” Breakdown reprimanded as he internally scolded his own frame as well. Knockout just shrugged, pleased with himself, and let his optics offline again.

“I won,” he announced.

Breakdown was ready to argue the point – and alright, maybe he was working against his original belief that Knockout should recharge, but the part of him that wanted to stay up play-arguing with Knockout was only getting more and more insistent, because it was fun and they were _talking_ and his spark swelled—

But then his audial picked up an odd noise in the otherwise quiet wilds. It wasn’t unusual to hear the occasional mechanimal skittering by, or the wind whistling through crystal formations, or any variety of natural sounds. This though was totally new to Breakdown, at least in this environment. The fact that Knockout had also noticed and sat straight up, his helm whipping around, was foreboding. Breakdown tilted his helm to try to locate where it was coming from, because it was only getting louder.

It sounded vaguely familiar. A grinding noise, like on construction sites when holes had to be pierced through metal, drilled into them—

Breakdown’s optics snapped wide open as he turned to look at the wall of metal behind them just as the noise stopped.

“Scrapper?” Breakdown called over his shoulder, his optics not once leaving the wall as he moved to get to his pedes on the ledge. There was a collective snuffling of vents from the direction of the recharging constructicons. “Hate to interrupt, but I could really use a second opinion here!”

More shuffling and then finally Scrapper called back tiredly, “Something wrong?”

“Not sure yet,” Breakdown admitted as he took careful steps towards the wall. “Heard a weird noise. Sounded almost like drilling.” When Knockout started to move, Breakdown held a servo up in his direction, insisting, “Stay there.”

Knockout grumbled and was still shuffling, awkwardly attempting to stand up.

“Drilling?” Scrapper asked, sounding more alert.

“Yeah. It stopped though, but it sounded like it was coming from behind the metal.” Breakdown reached out to rap his knuckles on the wall, and dread filled his tanks at the hollow echoing that resulted. Knockout hissed out what had to be a curse as he was still scrambling up to his pedes. “Knockout, I said stay there–”

Sudden echoing skittering crescendoed from behind the wall, something coming from behind the wall and _fast_ , fast enough that Breakdown didn’t have much time to even think to do anything before it reached them.

Claws, sharp and long and _thick_ , pierced through the metal from the other side, ripping it apart with the shrill screech of rent metal to reveal a large beast still mostly hidden by the shadows. It was taller than Breakdown by several helms and vastly out-massed him. However, it was hard to see much else in the dark. All that Breakdown could make out well was a crimson v-shaped visor and where the light from it glinted off a row of fangs framed by two long mandibles—

Breakdown’s battle protocols whirled to life in a hurry as he took a step back and tried to shout to his crew.

“Insecti–!!”

Knockout yelled his name, his digits scraping at Breakdown’s arm, but too late to get a hold before the massive beast roared and burst forward. The insecticon slammed its frame into Breakdown’s and sent him tumbling off the ledge with the insecticon’s claws digging into his shoulders.

“Breakdown!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little early this week too since I'll be pretty busy this weekend, and would rather post early than late. Plus I've wanted to post this chapter all week haha. I'm sure you can't tell why I'd be so excited about this chapter....
> 
> Gonna have to add another couple of character tags up there next week. ;)
> 
> We're probably about two thirds of the way through this fic now so we're heading into the final bits!! There's no way I would have written this fic as fast as I have were it not for the outstanding response you've all given me! Thank you all so, so much. <3 And I think I put it in the first chapter notes, but don't be afraid to hit me up at my tumblr @roseymoseyberry.


	7. Chapter 7

Breakdown’s HUD burst with alarms and warnings as his back hit the ground, bouncing and scraping along it as the insecticon held tight to him, his massive frame forcing Breakdown down harder and crushing him with each bump. When they finally skidded to a stop Breakdown tried to move, arching up off the ground in a desperate bid to throw the beast off as his frame twisted, but the hold on his arms held, pinning them to his sides and him down against the ground.

The insecticon hissed as Breakdown shouted in its face and only struggled harder.

“Get off, you slagging pit-spawn!”

One clawed servo finally released, but only long enough to smash down on his face, muffling Breakdown’s pained yelp. His processor spun as bright lights seemed to flash before his optics, though one brighter than the other before going completely dark. The screeching alert that the lens had shattered was unnecessary when the burst of pain told Breakdown all he needed to know.

“You heard him!” Bulkhead roared from above followed by a ringing clang of his mace and the insecticon’s yowling. “ _Get off_!”

The claws left Breakdown’s face and he forced his good optic to online to watch the insecticon backhand Bulkhead and send him skidding to the side. However, several of the constructicons were already behind the beast, cursing it as they grabbed it by whatever armor plates they could get a hold on and _pulling._

The insecticon roared and its fangs snapped, and once there was enough room between its frame and Breakdown’s as it was yanked back, he pressed his free servo against its chest and shoved, desperate to get the monster off before it could get loose and try to sink those dentae into him. His pedes scrambled against the ground, trying to find leverage, but the insecticon’s weight was still too heavy against his lower half to even begin to push it off.

And then a grey and red pede slammed into the insecticon’s face, the red visor splintering. The beast’s hissing was overpowered by Knockout’s snarling as the barbarian grinded his braced pede back and forth across its face, his good leg no doubt powering the continued assault.

Finally, when Bulkhead got his footing, he swung his mace to pound down against the beast’s arm where it was still digging into Breakdown’s. Between that, Knockout’s pede, and the constructicons pulling with all their might at once, it was finally enough for the insecticon. It roared and gave a full body shake as it transformed, loosing itself from their holds as its wings beat quickly and lifted up and away from the assault.

Breakdown sucked in a deep ventilation as the immediate threat left and his crew descended on him with concern.

“You gonna live?” Bulkhead asked as he fell to his knees and braced Breakdown’s shoulders, his optics wide as he searched his frame. Most of the constructicons were still standing, their backs to the Breakdown as they surrounded him, engines rumbling protectively. Hook though was at Breakdown’s other side in a flash, his far keener visor scanning him.

“‘M fine, fine,” Breakdown slurred before rebooting his voicebox. Hook grabbed him by the chin and twisted him to look into his broken optic. “Everyone else–?”

“We’re all ok,” Scrapper said from just beyond Breakdown’s now limited vision, his voice too calm, the way it got in the middle of trouble.

“Breakdown?” Knockout asked fervently, his claws ripping Breakdown’s chin from Hook’s grip to tilt his helm back and look at him. The barbarian was kneeling as well as he could behind Breakdown, also zeroing in on his optic.

The barbarian’s own optics burned with outrage.

“He’ll survive,” Hook insisted as he pushed to his pedes. “We have other problems on our servos.”

Breakdown managed to look away from Knockout out past the crowd of legs around him and saw what he meant.

Out in the direction the insecticon had flown it now stood, looking scuffed and disgruntled but otherwise in fighting shape and standing next to yet another one. Both chittered as they were further surrounded by a good couple dozen of the tall gun-totting barbarians that had held Knockout captive. They were spread out, trapping the crew against the cliffside with their weapons aimed.

“Scrapper?” Bonecrusher growled, his engine the loudest of the constructicons, raring for a fight.

“Not yet.” Scrapper moved past Breakdown and took his place in the center of the line of constructicons separating Breakdown and the squad of barbarians. “If they haven’t fired yet, that means they want something, so we should wait and see what it is.”

“Good to know at least one of you has a functioning processor.”

The pair of insecticons parted to reveal a small and slim mech who was no doubt the source of the mocking voice. Several unusual looking appendages curved around her from her back, thin and jointed as they framed her as she walked. Normally she wouldn’t have even registered as a threat to Breakdown, not with how small and frail she looked, but the way the insecticons stared at her with complete obedience as she casually stroked the injured one on the helm sent a shudder down his spine.

“Though I’m afraid you won’t like what I want, citymech,” she continued, her stare icy. “You didn’t really think you could wipe out my mecha and set the newest additions to my tribe loose without consequence, did you?”

Knockout’s gaze was fixed on the mech, his armor flaring as he muttered, so quietly it was nearly just an ex-vent, “Airachnid.” It didn’t sound much like Knockout’s language, and considering they were the same kind of barbarians as before, perhaps Knockout knew this mech by name.

However, Breakdown didn’t get to ask before Scrapper opened his servo and as subtly as he could signaled for them to stay quiet while the constructicons at his sides sidled closer, further obstructing Breakdown’s view of this Airachnid.

Or, more likely, obstructing her view of Knockout if she hadn’t noticed him yet.

“Guns _and_ you speak common? Awfully advanced for barbarians, aren’t you?” Scrapper said, ignoring for the moment the obvious threat.

Her laugh was chilling.

“Citymecha are all the same, so sure that you have everything figured out and that you can talk your way out of anything.” Airachnid’s pedes clacked on the ground as she took a handful of steps closer, and through the gap between Bonecrusher’s knees, Breakdown could see the cruel smirk on her face. “Your weapons are worth learning common to barter for, but that’s about it. Your lives are worthless to me, and you’ve caused me and my tribe nothing but pain and inconvenience.” She made a clicking sound all too similar to the insecticons’ chittering, and they rustled behind her with excitement. “And really, do you have any idea how hard it is to catch a Velocitron?”

Knockout’s optics flared, still enraged, but his frame pressed flush against Breakdown’s side, his armor clamped in tight.

“We took out your mecha with just three of ours,” Scrapper said, “so I would strongly suggest you back off before we cause you any more inconvenience.”

“Can you run for it with him?” Bulkhead asked quietly.

“I’ll manage.” Knockout glanced at the two of them, but wisely stayed quiet as Breakdown wrapped an arm around him. White hot pain shot up the limb with the movement, his armor pierced where the claws had been and Breakdown could feel some energon dripping into his struts and components. But it could move, and a frame diagnosis told him his frame was battered but functional. Breakdown could hold his own if he had to stay in the fight, so he certainly could try to carry Knockout off and away.

“Is that a threat? How cute,” the tribe leader taunted. Her pedes clacked again, coming even closer. Knockout shivered, tilting his helm up so his mouth was right beside Breakdown’s audial.

“Drive fast?” he asked so, so quietly, and Breakdown nodded.

“When I say.”

“I’ll give you credit for your confidence though. You don’t look at all frightened.” And closer still Airachnid came.

“Because we’re not,” Scrapper insisted, unmoving as the barbarian strolled closer. “I know my mecha, and I know what we’re capable of. And attacking one of us?” The constructicons’s engines all growled in unison. “That’s only gonna make it worse for you and yours.”

“Fascinating, considering I can say the same for my tribe.” And finally she came to a stop. “But I will also say that you surprise me, citymech. Perhaps we can come to a compromise and leave this whole mess behind us. You continue on your way to your precious city while I leave with what I want.”

“And what’s that?”

Airachnid was close enough now that Breakdown could clearly make out the exact curl of her lips. It was only the ever so slight tilt of her helm that tipped him off that her gaze had shifted from Scrapper.

And when she spoke, it was no longer in common. While slightly halting, there was no mistaking it for anything but the same language as Knockout’s.

He tried to press closer to Breakdown to no avail as the barbarian was already plastered to his side, but otherwise Knockout’s face shifted into something too casual, confident in the face of the fear that Breakdown knew he was feeling.

Scrapper interrupted almost immediately, saying, “You can stop right there, because there’s no way–”

The tribe leader lifted a servo to silence him as she said over him, “Now, now, I’m being polite. It only seems fair your little captive know what’s happening, don’t you think?”

Scrapper’s engine howled in his chassis.

“He’s not a captive,” Breakdown found himself growling, ignoring the way that Scrapper shot him a look that screamed stop. “We’re not savages like you slaggers!”

She grinned with far too many dentae.

“Oh? Then you should have no problem letting me at least explain so that he might have a choice in the matter.”

Breakdown’s mouth was a tight line as his spark clenched in his chest.

But that was when Knockout spoke up, sounding confident as he did. When Breakdown tried to interrupt, he waved him off, saying, “It’s fine” before returning to his language.

Even as his other servo tightened around Breakdown’s just beyond her view.

Were it not for the circumstances, Breakdown might have thought they were just having a polite conversation. Neither sounded upset as the tribe leader questioned him, and Knockout easily explained, his free servo gesturing at Breakdown first, and then eventually around at the rest. There may have been a slyness to Knockout’s tone though when Airachnid repeated one of his words questioningly – “ _Barithi_?” – looking surprised, and Knockout smirked he repeated it himself and patted Breakdown on the chest.

The tribe leader looked put off as her optics now focused on Breakdown, appraising him, and he couldn’t help glancing at Knockout, desperately wishing he knew what they were talking about.

The next words out of Airachnid’s mouth stole the amusement from Knockout’s face. His frame went still as his ventilations caught. His grip on Breakdown’s servo was painfully tight.

“Hey, what did you say to him?” Bulkhead snapped from beside Breakdown, shifting on his knees to close in on Knockout’s other side, protective. If they weren’t in a high tension situation, Breakdown was sure that Scrapper would chew him and Bulkhead out for not keeping their mouths shut.

“As I said before, just explaining the situation,” the tribe leader insisted pleasantly. “That if he agrees to come with me, I can promise he’ll be unharmed and well fed, and you will all go on your way.” Airachnid’s smirk split her face in two. “If he should choose to resist, then he will still end up a part of my tribe after watching his precious citymech and friends offlined before his very optics.”

Breakdown’s spark erupted with outrage as he pushed up to his pedes, ignoring his frame’s and Knockout’s protests. “He’s not going anywhere!” he shouted, his servo holding Knockout’s tight while the other shifted to his trusted hammer. At Knockout’s other side Bulkhead had done more of less the same, though he stepped up between Knockout and the opposing barbarians.

Airachnid frowned, her armor flaring as she shifted her gaze to Scrapper. “If he’s not your captive then should you not give him the choice?”

Then, of all things, the constructicons started to snicker amongst themselves.

“If you had given him an honest choice, maybe,” Scrapper started, and he took a step forward this time, moving into the tribe leader’s space. The insecticons were hissing now and the barbarians shuffled, the sound of guns being cocked and readied audible. Airachnid didn’t step back, but her plating had snapped down defensively.

Knockout tugged at Breakdown’s servo, whispering, “ _Don’t_. Airachnid hurt you.”

“Don’t worry, Knockout,” Breakdown reassured with a squeeze. “Trust me.”

“Knockout here doesn’t know what we’re capable of,” Scrapper continued, unperturbed, servos on his hips, “so he might actually believe you can defeat us, which just isn’t true.”

Airachnid sneered as she spat back, “Do you really think your band of oversized oafs stands a chance?”

“You’re the one putting off the fight, aren’t you?”

That had the constructicons chuckling again, though now it was almost completely synched up – instead of their usual cacophony, it sounded like a chilling reverberation of a single mech’s dismissive laugh.

With an enraged hiss, Airachnid flipped backwards, her frame shifting until she was held aloft by the spindly legs formed by the appendages at her back. As she scuttled backward, she spoke to her tribe in rapid clicks and whistles, and they all readied themselves. However, they did not dare attack before their leader was clear of the space between.

Which provided the constructicons with plenty of time.

Without another word, Mixmaster stepped up next to Scrapper and they both shifted at once, plating and components twisting and turning in perfect mirrored synchronization. Before they had even finished, Long Haul stepped up next and leapt forward, his frame transforming midair and pulling the other transformed constructions towards him until they clicked and folded into place. Bonecrusher and Scavenger had meanwhile moved to either side of Hook, bracing his pedes on their servos before lifting and tossing him up. A somersault became a writhing ball of plating and struts as his frame connected with Long Haul’s. Below that, two legs were nearly fully formed, and the two above were quickly forming a torso. Scavenger and Bonecrusher ran at the form, up onto the backs of the legs and then pushing off before they too transformed, attracted like magnets to the sides of the now fully formed torso.

It only took a few more seconds for the gestalt to settle and his helm to rise up from his torso.

The barbarians as a whole stumbled back as they were faced with the titan, towering over them even still on his knees and slamming his fist to the ground between them, completely obstructing Breakdown’s view of the enemy and vice versa.

“Nothing defeats the Devastator!” the gestalt roared triumphantly, a deep rumbling voice that didn’t belong to any of the individual constructicons. Gunfire sounded soon after and shrill screeching of insecticons followed, but with a single swipe of his massive servo, Devastator sent one of the insecticons spinning away and the second one quickly flew away from his grasp. The second swipe was low, knocking barbarians over like they were mere sparklings. “ _Nothing!_ ”

Knockout clung to Breakdown for dear life, his optics impossibly wide and his engine whining pitifully. Breakdown hushed him, entangling their digits as he said, “It’s ok, Knockout, it’s ok! Devastator’s on our side.”

“And having all the fun,” Bulkhead added, though he was still braced, and Breakdown kept his hammer ready as well. If the barbarians were persistent, some of them could slip past Devastator and cause havoc.

Above the roaring of Devastator’s ginormous engine, Airachnid could be heard shouting orders. While they were scattered and erratic, gunshots still sounded off, and Devastator was still a mech even with his large size – the bullets would comparatively do less damage, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t start to build up.

Though doing more damage to the titan only made him angrier.

Devastator growled, the sound nearly shaking the ground, as he said, “Leave Devastator’s mecha alone!” He raised a fist before hunching his shoulders as he slammed it down, and while Breakdown couldn’t see it from his view, he could hear the resounding crunch and squeal of metal frames under Devastator’s unyielding smash. The previously silent barbarians were shouting now, terrified and pleading, perhaps with their leader.

Knockout trembled against Breakdown’s side no matter how tightly he held him.

The barbarians were scattering though, escaping Devastator’s reach, and while some buckled down to continue firing, others were scrambling across the wilderness to safety. Breakdown could feel his frame start to ease as he watched them retreat, sure that the rest would soon follow. The insecticons still buzzed around Devastator’s helm as well, though they gave him a wide berth when he finally got to his pedes and stood at his full height.

And alright, Breakdown couldn’t blame Knockout for trying to slip behind him, optics wide and frightened. Devastator had scared Breakdown scrapless the first time the constructicons had formed him around Breakdown, and that had been after knowing the constructicons for a couple of years. To watch mecha that he had only started to trust form a towering titan that was likely taller than anything Knockout had ever seen?

That was terrifying.

But Breakdown kept Knockout’s servo in his and he insisted, “Knockout, it’s alright. Devastator is our friend. He’s safe.”

“ _Safe_?” Knockout hissed incredulously as he watched Devastator finally get one of the insecticons in his servos and—

Oh.

Breakdown winced as the gestalt crushed the insecticon into a ball of scrap with his powerful servos, seemingly unperturbed as the creature’s howling shriek was cut short, and let it drop to the ground.

The ball didn’t so much as twitch.

“He’s safe for us at least.”

Knockout opened his mouth to protest, optics trained on the empty shell of an insecticon that was offlined like it was nothing.

But the shrill shriek of a drill heralded the burst of motion from the ground behind Devastator, the drill shape gracefully shifting into Airachnid, her frame compact while her spindly legs kept her aloft. Her face was twisted with rage and her legs were quick as she came upon them.

“Bulk–!”

“On it!” Bulkhead replied as he started into a sprint at the barbarian, his mace raised, making sure his bulky frame stayed between Airachnid and her target. “Get outta here!”

“But–!”

“Go!”

Breakdown grit his dentae as his processor warred with itself. Bulkhead could handle himself, and there was nothing to really worry about with Devastator right there. Knockout was injured and a target for whatever twisted reason. He had to get his barbarian out of there.

But it felt wrong to leave his crew.

“Breakdown?” Knockout asked, pulling at his servo, pulling him away from the fight. Bulkhead had met Airachnid now, swinging at her once, twice, and three times as she nimbly dodged each one. She tried to move around him, her optics bright even across the distance as she spotted the two of them, and it was only Bulkhead’s servo grabbing one of her legs and yanking it out from under her that kept her from sprinting for them.

“Go already!”

With a grunted curse, Breakdown turned go pick Knockout up and toss him just high enough that he had room to transform. The process was painful as his injuries were pulled and twisted with the transformation, but nevertheless he settled on his four wheels and Knockout was sprawled across his roof. His tires spun as Breakdown ordered, “Hold on!” and started to drive. He had to follow along the cliffside to escape the fight, so with Knockout’s claws hooked around his ledge, he headed away from Bulkhead and followed the sheer metal.

Until one of his back tires suddenly stopped spinning, covered with some sticky substance that was gunking up his mechanisms. Breakdown’s frame swerved towards the wall, and it was only with a screech of his breaks that he kept from slamming into the metal.

“Breakdown?!”

“Hold on, hold on, something’s wrong–!”

Panicked, his visual sensors tried to search out just what had happened.

A little ways off Bulkhead was on the ground, though his frame was covered with some sort of white-ish ropes that he struggled against. Maybe the same stuff that Breakdown could feel caking his wheel?

The thought came and went as he spotted Airachnid sprinting towards him, mere seconds separating them. It was out of desperation and a quick prayer that Breakdown transformed back to his root mode. The mess was still caught up around his tire, but it was focused enough that while unable to spin so much as an inch, it didn’t impede with transforming or leg movements.

Knockout landed on the ground behind him with a clatter and a yelp, and that’s all that Breakdown noticed before his focus was solely on Airachnid’s hissing frame as she lifted her servo towards him. It was subtly transforming and for a moment Breakdown feared it might be a warframe upgrade—

Instead of any bullet or blast, however, Breakdown just found the hammer he had raised pushed back against his chest from the force of a thick, ropey substance hitting it and wrapping around his torso. It only took one try to move his arm to find it was stuck in place before another blast hit the other side of his chest, enough of the webbing going around the side of his other arm that it was stuck in place too.

“Out of my way!” Airachnid growled as Breakdown pulled at the sticky restraints, trying to keep his frame positioned between her and Knockout. “I came for that Velocitron and I will leave with him!”

“Get melted!” When Airachnid didn’t so much as react and no amount of pulling at the constraints helped, Breakdown grit his dentae before opening his mouth, ready to shout for Devastator’s help—

Only to end up with a mouthful of webbing followed shortly by a sharp claw pressed between neck plates and against an energon line.

Airachnid stilled though as Knockout shouted. It was in his own language, but it was clear he was all but pleading that she stop her servo, and once she did he managed to scramble to his pedes. An attempt at cool confidence was back, but Knockout’s voice wavered and the servo that Knockout laid on Breakdown’s back trembled as he stayed just behind Breakdown.

Where before Airachnid had kept a strut-chilling calm to her tone, now she bared her dentae at Knockout as she spat out a command. There was no room for debate.

Breakdown gave another yank with his arms and ignored the sharp prick of Airachnid’s claw. He had to get out, he had to get free, he had to keep his promise–!

“Stay here.”

Breakdown couldn’t see Knockout since he was on the same side as Breakdown’s broken optic, but he could feel Knockout stepping forward so he was next to him now. Airachnid was focused on him as Knockout returned to his language, asking a question.

With a hiss and a warning, the tribal leader retracted her claw, though she also shoved Breakdown back with one of her legs. He stumbled, nearly tripping as he was completely unbalanced with his arms glued to his frame, but managed to stay upright. Not that it mattered for long as one last blast of webbing hit Breakdown, covering his torso and spreading past it to stick to the wall, trapping him in place against it.

Breakdown’s spark raced as he took in the sight of Knockout standing in front of Airachnid all on his own, weight balanced on his good leg while bits of his injury had come loose and dangled, further emphasizing Knockout’s handicap. Breakdown felt as if he was burning up with rage and fear as he jerked and strained in his bondage. His shouting was muffled by the webbing wedged in his mouth, but that didn’t stop him from flinging curses and protests. If Knockout gave himself up here and now, there would be no way to find him and free him from whatever fate awaited him with Airachnid’s tribe. Breakdown didn’t know the first thing about the wildlands beyond what he needed to travel from city to city. Tracking barbarians would be an impossible task.

But he couldn’t let Knockout go. Not like this!

Airachnid reached out a servo to Knockout and Breakdown’s spark stopped cold.

Knockout’s servo flexed at his side, as if considering it, and finally glanced over his shoulder at Breakdown. His optics were pale and blown wide as they searched Breakdown’s frame, no doubt noting the broken optic, the pierced armor on his arms, the scrapes and dents, all taken because of him–

It was also clear as day that Knockout didn’t want to go.

Breakdown jerked hard, his pedes bracing against the wall to try to push away from it, to break through the webbing, _anything_ to keep fighting.

 _‘Stay here’_ was muffled by the sticky gag of sorts, and Breakdown could only hope that every inch of his frame conveyed it for him as webbing creaked and started to tear from his strain against it.

_‘Stay here!’_

Knockout’s optics flared and the tight line of his mouth nearly twitched up. His servo curled into a fist and, without further warning, he threw his helm back and shouted.

“Constructicons! Help!”

Airachnid’s face twisted with puzzlement, but her patience had reached its end as she reached out to grab Knockout. He yanked his arm away, stumbling backwards awkwardly on his injured leg as he growled at her, which was only met with a louder one as Airachnid lifted her servo, palm out towards him.

Until Bulkhead’s full frame barreled into her from behind. His arms were still bound to his sides and his mouth covered like Breakdown’s, but there was no muffling his victorious crow as the barbarian crumpled under him, hissing and clawing as she was trapped under his bulk.

Airachnid went completely still through when Devastator roared and the ground shook as he took a step towards them. The second insecticon was still online and dived at his face, and the few barbarians from her tribe that remained were shouting and firing off their weapons, but the titan ignored them all as his focus was on the tribal leader.

“Leave him alone!” Devastator snarled, slapping the insecticon away to crash against the metal wall and tumble down towards the ground. The gestalt reached his servo down to pick Knockout up, ignoring how the barbarian started to panic in his grip, servos scrambling against digits as large as his arm to find purchase and dig his claws in. “Knockout is our mech! Knockout belongs with us!”

While Knockout looked terrified, Breakdown felt a rush of relief at the sight. No force on Cybertron was going to reach him while in Devastator’s hold.

And Airachnid must have figured out as such. “You’ll regret the day you crossed me, citymecha,” she spat before her frame transformed under Bulkhead. It was hard to see, but Breakdown knew the sound of that drill now as Airachnid disappeared into the ground, leaving Bulkhead to roll onto his back with a heavy ex-vent.

With their leader went the rest of the tribe, blending into the darkness and away to whatever pit they came from. The remaining insecticons roared its displeasure, its flight crooked from injuries, but it followed nonetheless.

All that could be heard were Devastator’s massive engines and Knockout’s complaints – “Down! I want down!” – and with a glance Breakdown watched as Bulkhead struggled to his pedes, looking up at him and winking, no doubt with a huge smile hidden by the webbing.

And finally, Breakdown could feel his frame relax while his spark ebbed with gratitude and affection for his mecha.

* * *

It took a while to get free since Devastator refused to let go of Knockout, insisting on keeping him cradled in one arm despite the barbarian’s protests.

“Bad barbarian in the ground,” he reasoned to the best of his abilities, shifting Knockout so he was settled on the crook of his arm instead of tightly in his grip. Knockout’s servos hooked into the edges of his chest plating tightly as he did. “Knockout safe here.”

Even from the distance, Breakdown could swear he heard the barbarian grumble at that, but he accepted the logic.

However, that left Devastator with only one servo to pull the sticky webbing off of Bulkhead. It was almost amusing to watch Bulkhead struggling against the large servo, pulling away from the grasp on the webbing to slowly rip the bondage apart strand by strand. Once enough of it gave way, Bulkhead managed to burst out, ex-venting with relief as he rolled his shoulders and stretched his arms.

Breakdown definitely laughed into the webbing as he watched Bulkhead pull at the gunk stuck on his face, shouting “Frag!” when it finally ripped away, possibly with a layer of paint lost with it.

Amusement quickly evaporated though when it was his turn to be ripped off the wall.

While Breakdown had weakened some of the bonds with his earlier struggles, the fact remained that he was caked with multiple layers of the slag. Most of it was ripped off by Devastator, since at least in his position it was easier for the gestalt to do one-servoed, but once he was off the wall, he was simply too exhausted to yank himself away the way Bulkhead had to get himself released. Thankfully, Bulkhead took over at that point, shooing Devastator’s servo away and just ripping the webbing strand by strand himself.

That didn’t stop the titan from getting antsy though.

“We need to leave,” Devastator insisted. No further explanation was forthcoming, but neither Bulkhead nor Breakdown expected one. The constructicons had long explained that as Devastator, he was limited in terms of logic and speech – everything had to be thought by all of them to become part of Devastator’s cognition, and for all that the constructicons were attached at the hip, the fact remained that they were separate mecha the vast majority of their lives. Mixmaster liked to theorize that if they stayed together long enough, stayed melded together for days and weeks and years instead of hours, that Devastator could become a fully-functioning mech. But there was simply no place for him in the cities, so his components stayed separate and his existence was a rare and simple-minded occurrence.

The reasons they needed to leave were too numerous for six minds to agree on, so all Devastator knew was they had to leave.

And he wasn’t wrong.

The longer they stayed, the more time that Airachnid and her tribe had to regroup, mend themselves, and potentially continue tracking them for another sneak attack now that they knew more about the enemies they faced.

There was no way they would be able to recharge that night.

“I know, I know,” Bulkhead said reassuringly as he ripped another strand. “We’ll start moving soon. But Breakdown can’t transform and drive like this, so you’ll have to wait.”

Devastator’s engine grumbled but he relented.

Knockout, however, from his perch on the titan patted the thick armor and asked, “Breakdown up with Knockout?”

Breakdown chewed on the webbing between his dentae because he could not wait to be heard again, because that was absolutely unnecessary. He was exhausted, certainly, but he could carry his own weight—

“Yes!” Devastator replied, sounding nearly gleeful about it, and before Breakdown could try to move out of the way, a large servo was wrapped around his middle. Breakdown’s protest was muffled, though loud enough for Bulkhead to hear and snicker at as Breakdown was lifted away from the ground. “Good idea.”

Once lifted to Knockout’s level, Breakdown shot him a look, expecting the barbarian to be pleased with himself.

Which, to be fair, he did look that way.

But the moment that Breakdown was settled into the crook of Devastator’s elbow, Knockout carefully climbed towards him, servos latched onto Devastator’s chest plating and kibble and moving his frame until he could flop onto Breakdown’s front. Breakdown grunted but otherwise just watched as Knockout’s self-assured expression slipped away while his clawed servos immediately got to work cutting him free.

“Bulkhead need up?” Devastator asked, his chest vibrating where Breakdown was against it. They had to look ridiculous up here, cradled like newly forged sparklings, but there was something soothing about it nonetheless.

That may have also been the exhaustion and energon loss talking though.

“I’m good, big guy. I’ll keep an optic on the ground while you lead the way.”

With a rumble of agreement Devastator turned and, keeping his arms and servos under Knockout and Breakdown to keep them stable, headed down the road they would have hit the next morning. It wasn’t what Breakdown would have called a smooth ride but it was certainly faster than their usual slow crawl in vehicle mode – most likely the gestalt could calm down in a couple hours and they would make camp again, far enough away that they could rest easier.

A couple more swipes of Knockout’s pointed digits finally freed Breakdown’s arms from being stuck to his torso. The webbing still covered him, but it had dried so it wasn’t re-sticking, and Breakdown hoped that solvent or water would eventually wash the substance off. Considering the bits of it that were in his mouth had been slowly melting where it met his oral lubricant it seemed like a fair guess. There was a small river by Praxis that they could stop by before entering the city proper—

Breakdown’s thoughts stopped dead when Knockout reached for his face, his servo trembling as he traced around Breakdown’s shattered optic.

There was no haughtiness, no outrage. Instead the light of his optics wavered while the ridges above were tightly knitted, and the corners of his tightly pressed lips twitched. Breakdown couldn’t pinpoint if it was concern, guilt, relief, gratitude – and wondered if Knockout even knew what he was feeling.

Whatever it was though, it was strong, and it made Breakdown’s spark ache to see.

Breakdown reached towards the webbing on his face and gritted his dentae as he grabbed and ripped it off. Pain receptors fired off in shrieking protest and yes, oh yes, there was definitely a layer of paint that went with it. Breakdown managed to bite back his curse though, if just because Knockout’s optics went wide.

“It’s alright,” Breakdown managed, his servos grasping at Knockout’s wrists, not pulling them away from Breakdown’s face, but rather attempting to comfort him. “I’m alright. See? Totally alright.”

Knockout’s face crumpled though, the servo by Breakdown’s optic cupping the side of his face, thumb brushing the angle of his cheek.

“Not alright.”

“Yes alright,” Breakdown insisted, his lips curling into a warm smile. “I’m online, aren’t I? Between you and Hook, I’ll be good as new before you know it.”

Knockout still frowned as he grumbled, “Menace.”

Breakdown’s frame ached strut-deep, and his HUD read-outs were making it crystal clear that he’d need a whole new optic to replace the shattered one, and _Primus_ was he exhausted.

But his spark warmed anyway.

“I’m gonna guess that the word you’re actually looking for is ‘idiot.’ Would be true too. I’ve never been the brightest mech.”

Knockout’s servo against his chest fisted as his expression twisted, and with no little confusion he asked, “Why?”

“Just how I was forged I guess–”

“ _Why_?” Knockout interrupted, almost irritated sounding, and his optics were wavering again as he stared down at Breakdown. “Airachnid want me, hurt you, hurt tribe, but—but you—why?”

Breakdown’s servo was large enough to cover Knockout’s where it laid on his face, squeezing gently as he replied, “I told you from the start, didn’t I? Nothing bad is gonna happen to you. I’m gonna keep you safe.”

The fist against Breakdown’s chest relaxed, slowly and surely, before lying flat above where his spark pulsed softly.

“And tribe?”

“You mean the crew? Not quite the same deal, but yeah. You’re practically part of the crew at this point, so as long as you want to be, you’re one of us. Like uh—well, sure, kind of like being part of a tribe, I guess. We protect our own, and that includes you.”

“Devastator protect Knockout,” Devastator agreed suddenly, frame rumbling. “Knockout our mech now.”

“I’ll second that!” Bulkhead shouted from below, his engine revving loudly as he drove ahead of Devastator just enough to be seen.

While the gestalt had startled Knockout, it came and went, and his frame relaxed nearly fully for the first time since the whole mess had begun.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t even mention it,” Breakdown replied warmly. “But if you really want to make it up to me, I could probably use some fixing right now.”

And, finally, Knockout looked like himself as he straightened, confident determination written across every line of his face.

“You protect, I fix.”

“Sounds good to me,” Breakdown said, letting Knockout turn his helm to the side and up to feel for the energon line in his neck. The ride in Devastator’s arms wouldn’t be stable enough to get anything done beyond first aid, but that was all he really needed at the moment. The optic would need to just be patched up and ignored until they hit Praxis and Hook scrounged up a replacement, and the rest could be easily mended and buffed out to let his repair systems finish the job.

Devastator’s engine purred as softly as a titan’s could as he commented, “You two cute.”

Knockout’s audial had been pressed to Breakdown’s chest, and he smirked as Breakdown’s face twisted with embarrassment, optic ridges quirked when Breakdown’s spark skipped.

He wasn’t sure if it was lucky or not that Knockout wouldn’t be able to hear the aching desire that each pulse of his spark echoed in Breakdown’s processor.

_Stay here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took over twice as long as usual between chapters, but I've had a crazy couple of weeks and I'm all caught up with what I have written, so being busy and having no buffer? This is what happens. Plus it doesn't help that this chapter is nearly twice as long as some of the shorter chapters, so maybe that makes up for it.
> 
> Also, you didn't think I would have the constructicons and NOT make sure to feature Devastator as some point, did you? ;) Plus as much as the fic is about BD and KO, it's also about BD's own little 'tribe' and KO fitting into it.
> 
> All that aside, thank you all so, so, SO much for your kudos and comments!!! Your support kept me motivated even through the hardest times these last few weeks and brought me right back to these bots every chance I had. I cannot thank you all enough!!!


	8. Chapter 8

Hook whistled as he looked Breakdown over, shining his small but far too bright light into Breakdown’s socket as he moved his helm this way and that, looking from every angle that he could. His visor though was dimmer than usual, and Breakdown knew it was sheer force of will that kept the medic online. After Devastator had finally decided they had walked for enough hours, he had set Knockout and Breakdown down before slowly unraveling back into his components. And, right on cue, the constructicons started to curl up on the ground to recharge. Combining seemed to take its toll on them all.

Mixmaster had tried to explain it before, talking about spark frequencies and such, but it was ultimately Scavenger who actually made sense.

_“It’s like you just had the most intense spark-play session, but multiply that by five – five? Yeah, five, cause it’s you and five other sparks – anyway. Merging with five other sparks, and it goes on for_ hours _, and there’s no breaks. It’s great but slag if you don’t just want to recharge for forever after that.”_

So the constructicons had all settled except Hook. The medic had none-too-gently slapped his own face, muttering to himself, and then pulled out his medkit and a lamp far brighter than any fire would be.

“Bad new or good news first?”

“There’s good news?” Breakdown asked, wincing as Knockout prodded between the gaps of his arm plating. The barbarian had done his best to get some treatment done on the ride in Devastator’s arms, but it had proven pretty useless beyond checking his vitals and plastering the leaks in his optic shut. Knockout had been more or less sprawled across Breakdown, straddling his hips while checking his frame, and there wasn’t room to put any tools. That combined with the swaying of Devastator’s gait meant that Knockout had to give up doing much, so he had instead insisted that Breakdown recharge while he had the chance.

Truthfully, it was only the sheer exhaustion of his frame that allowed Breakdown to do so. There was still the lingering of fight protocols at the periphery of his processor, but combined with that was all the places that Knockout’s frame was touching his, and how serious and focused and  _handsome_ Knockout was while he did his work, mumbling distractedly to himself.

Exhaustion battled with the sheer affection overwhelming his spark, and exhaustion had won out.

It was a rude awakening to online to two doctors poking at him.

“I mean, good news is you’re online,” Hook admitted, putting his light away finally and digging through his kit. “Bad news is that your optic is indeed busted. I’ll have to find a replacement when we get to Praxis.”

“You mean make some shady back alley deals.”

“If you want to spend shanix you don’t have on some ritzy medic for the same end result, be my guest.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Breakdown mumbled, offlining his good optic as he cycled a ventilation. Considering he was already gonna lose most of his savings to Knockout’s surgery, he knew that Hook was right. And while sure, Hook was self-trained and as such had to deal with the illegal side of the parts marketplace, he had a perfectionist’s visor for the goods he was willing to trade for. It might take a while, but Hook would get nothing but the best he could for Breakdown.

Breakdown’s optic onlined instantly though as he felt the armor of his upper arm unlatch and lift away from the much more delicate inner workings. Knockout must have noticed his surprise as he tutted him while placing the plating on the ground beside him carefully.

“I fix,” Knockout reminded Breakdown as he focused in on the mechanism that should have been hidden from sight. Breakdown nodded before resolutely turning his face away. Maybe it was odd after all that had happened, but he felt a bit squeamish seeing the inside of his own arm like this.

Breakdown didn’t need to see it to know what his HUD had told him – some tubes had tears and some of his circuitry was mangled. Truthfully his armor had taken the brunt of the damage, and now that it was disconnected from his sensornet, the relief was immediate.

“Now that I have your attention again,” Hook huffed, no doubt amused by Breakdown refusing to look at his own anatomy, “let’s get to the treatment plan. For now I’m just gonna have to weld a patch over this, alright?”

“Yeah,” Breakdown agreed weakly. Even with the lines now stopped up from Knockout’s first aid, it was for the best to keep anything from getting into the chasm of his optic. “At least try to make it look cool though, would ya?”

Hook snorted, unimpressed as he dug through his kit.

“Who do you think you’re talking to? Just relax while I get the patch bent into the right shape for you and then we’ll get welding.”

Breakdown took that to mean he could dare a peak over at Knockout. The barbarian was peering intently at his inner arm bits, delicately using his claws to move wiring and tubes as needed to check them all. The armor piece had been laid across the fire, no doubt to warm it up to make smoothing out where the metal had split and ragged edges stuck out easier once Knockout got to it. For now though his mouth was a tight line as he stopped at a particular bundle of wires that, when his digit grazed it, sent a sharp pulse of pain racing up Breakdown’s arm.

“Hurt?”

“Yeah, that hur—frag! Yes, that fragging hurts!”

Knockout’s servos pulled back instantly, though he gave Breakdown an unimpressed look that rivaled Hook’s, optic ridges lifted.

“You’re such a whiner,” Hook added. Nevertheless, he held a charge dampener and shifted to look at Breakdown’s arm himself. “Just give me a second to turn it down for you.”

However, before the medic had the chance to slap the dampener onto Breakdown’s sensornet, Knockout snapped, “What is  _that_?”

“Charge dampener. It’ll divert the electrical charge from his sensornet, so the pain receptor responses will be lessened.”

Knockout’s optics narrowed as he considered Hook, his words, and then the patch in his servo.

“He means it’ll be less painful if he puts it on,” Breakdown tried, hoping to cut off an argument at the pass. When that just got a blank look, Breakdown tried again, pointing at the patch and then his arm as he said, “Hurts less with it on.”

Knockout didn’t look convinced though. He plucked the dampener from Hook’s servo quickly, ignoring the medic’s immediate complaints – “Hey, hey! Careful with that! I’m not made of shanix you know!” – as he turned it, optics cycling as he looked at it from every angle.

“Charge dampener,” Knockout murmured to himself, sounding distrustful. “Why?”

“Hurts less,” Breakdown tried again, but Knockout shook his head and actually looked at Hook as he waved the patch in his digits.

“Not why, different word. Charge dampener , hurt less,” he repeated as he gestured towards Breakdown’s arm, “but I want – not why, but different word.”

“Who knew learning more common would just make this harder,” Bulkhead commented from his post. The fact that he had ended up getting his wish of taking over guard shift for the night was an irony that Breakdown was trying to ignore.

“No kidding,” Breakdown said with an ex-vent.

Hook, however, didn’t agree. In fact his visor brightened with understanding, even as he scowled.

“He wants to know how it works.”

Bulkhead whistled empathetically.

“Knockout,” Breakdown started, grimacing when Knockout shot him a dirty look, no doubt noting the tone that Breakdown was using. Breakdown had started the night enjoying play fighting, but he was not particularly looking forward to trying to have an actual argument about how there was no way Hook could do that. Knockout didn’t even know the word for ‘how’, so there was simply no way—

“It’s fine,” Hook grumbled, waving Breakdown off as he made to kneel closer to Knockout. “He won’t let me put it on if I don’t so let’s just get it over with.”

“You sure? I can try to–”

“If he’s worth his salt as a doctor then yeah, I’m sure.” Knockout was watching Hook warily, but the constructicon held out his palm instead of making a grab for the patch. “You want to know how the charge dampener works?”

Knockout’s optics narrowed but he nodded.

“Alright. Let’s get some basic vocab across then first. These here are wires.”

“Wires.”

“Yeah. They carry charge.”

“Carry charge?”

“Charge is the electricity that travels along it” – Hook’s digit dragged along a wire as he spoke, though luckily not one of the injured ones.

Knockout blinked and then, slowly, nodded again while his sneer softened.

“Wires carry charge, like–” he pointed to one of Breakdown’s tubes – “carry energon.”

“That’s a tube, but yeah. Like that.”

Knockout’s optics faded as he thought, putting words together, and then ever so gently placed the tip of his digit against the wire bundle he had pressed before. “Hurt wires?”

Hook actually smirked as he nodded. “Pain receptor wires, but you got the right idea. Maybe this won’t be so hard after all.”

Ultimately it took about ten minutes of Hook and Knockout going back and forth like that, with Knockout pointing out parts of Breakdown’s anatomy and Hook replying with the right words in common. Truthfully, even Breakdown was learning a lot from the impromptu lesson, and was bemused by how Knockout could string the vocabulary together in ways that Breakdown wouldn’t know how to with his limited anatomy knowledge.

And then Hook applied the patch while Knockout watched with his face practically pressed against Breakdown’s arm, intent to see exactly what was happening up close, his ex-vents tickling the sensitive inner workings.

From that point on, the rest of the repairs were done with Hook and Knockout talking to one another – and, alright, occasionally snapping at each other in lightning fast arguments. Knockout would ask for vocabulary terms while questioning everything that Hook did, and Hook didn’t hold back on his own questions as Knockout worked. Knockout questioned every piece of technology while Hook questioned every paste applied and precise massage given.

Despite being the focus of their efforts Breakdown felt ignored, but he didn’t mind so much. If anything it was nice to see the two medics work together.

“—You’re going to try to just reshape the armor like this? Just because you heated it this whole time – do you even have enough weight to pull that off? Hold on, let me help, you light-weight–”

“Don’t want help!”

“Yeah, well, shove over. Just need to push it down like this–”

“No! No, no, no, not – servo here, slow,  _slow–_ ”

“Primus, this is why I don’t use such primitive – huh! Alright, yeah, that’s going—well frag me, that actually worked.”

“Yes. Just follow lines.”

“Lines? This is metal, you dipstick.”

“Yes, lines. Follow metal lines–”

“Hold on. You can tell where the Blastko’s lines are?”

And on they went until, even with their servos poking at his arm to reattach the reshaped plating, Breakdown fell into recharge with complete trust that he would be in one piece when he woke up.

* * *

With morning came the real chaos after the storm.

Breakdown looked on blearily through his one good optic as Hook berated Scavenger while working on his back. Some of the other constructicons looked to already be patched up, through it took Breakdown a moment to realize what from. While the bullets hadn’t been enough to take down Devastator, that didn’t mean the remains weren’t still lodged in the frames of his components. Next to Hook was a pile of bullets he’d pulled from his gestalt, and considering how Longhaul shifted awkwardly next to Scavenger, it was likely his turn next to be treated.

Hook had to be utterly exhausted and it showed in how roughly he yanked the bullet remains from Scavenger’s back, untouched by the sympathy the rest of the gestalt was feeling for Scavenger.

However, the gestalt didn’t stop Hook. In fact, they were all rather focused on staring off in every direction, faces stern as if just daring the planet at large to even try touching their crew again. The long walk and subsequent deep recharge apparently hadn’t been enough to rid the constructicons of their jitters from the night before.

Bulkhead, however, was sprawled across the ground, recharging so deeply that nothing that happened around him seemed to touch him.

“Breakdown?”

Breakdown tilted his helm back and rebooted his optic when he found Knockout staring down at him. His processor was still a bit slow to online fully, so it took a moment to realize that while he was on the ground, his helm was laying across Knockout’s lap. The barbarian’s digits were so,  _so_ gentle as they stroked along the ornamentation of his helm.

“‘Morning,” Breakdown said, his voice only slightly slurred from recharge, and he could feel his lips curl into what had to be a goofy-looking smile.

Knockout rolled his optics at Breakdown’s good cheer as he lifted his other servo to reveal a cube of energon. “You need drink,” he explained clinically, almost coldly. Breakdown’s expression only wavered for a moment before his huffed a chuckle.

“Are you still mad about me getting myself slagged?”

“Mad?” Oh yes, Knockout was definitely speaking coolly to him. However, that didn’t stop the barbarian’s servos from being gentle and supportive as he helped Breakdown to sit upright to drink the energon.

Breakdown fought back a hiss as his frame protested. If he was lucky the energon was from Hook’s special supply and would be laced with pain dampers.

“You know, like, uh,” Breakdown started before twisting his face into an exaggeration of Knockout’s – a deep frown with tightly knotted optic ridges.

Knockout sniffed indignantly as he just shoved Breakdown’s drink into his servos.

“Yes. I’m mad.”

The first sip tasted wrong and Breakdown felt relief already flood his processor since that meant it was Hook’s. With four huge chugs he downed the whole cube and ex-vented a grateful sigh.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Breakdown said, grinning again. The line of Knockout’s frown twitched, almost giving way to Breakdown’s bright mood.

“You not mad.”

“Nope,” Breakdown easily agreed as Knockout immediately set to work finding the fuel line in Breakdown’s neck, checking his vitals yet again. It was ridiculous how quickly Breakdown had gotten used to it as he tilted his helm to the side to make it easier.

“Why?”

“Because everyone’s online and safe,” Breakdown explained with an easy shrug. When Knockout looked unimpressed, Breakdown added, “And you’re still here.”

That gave Knockout pause. His optics rebooted as he considered Breakdown.

And then, slowly, the smallest of smiles pulled at the corner of his lips.

“Yes. Still here.”

* * *

“You doing alright?”

“I should be asking you that considering you only got what, half an hour of recharge last night?” Breakdown asked. “And a couple this morning if you were lucky.” No doubt Bulkhead would have shrugged if they weren’t in their alt-modes, but as it was, Bulkhead simply released a huffed ex-vent.

“Sure, but I got out of that mess better than everybody else. All I got was a dent to the cranium and this web gunk on me,” Bulkhead replied as he sidled closer and gently bumped Breakdown. “Besides, thanks to Devastator’s walk last night, we’ll be at Praxis bright and early tomorrow morning and I’ll have plenty of time to recharge then. Could probably make it today if we pushed it, but I think we’re all looking forward to washing this whole adventure off.”

“I cannot even begin to tell you how much I want to wash the webbing off,” Breakdown agreed.

Bulkhead’s engine hummed with agreement.

“But you’re good otherwise?”

“I’m fine, Bulk. Hook and Knockout did a good job.” Which was true. Sure, there were still fresh weld scars where the insecticon had pierced his armor and a patch over his optic, but otherwise he was fully functional.

Though both doctors had insisted Breakdown take it easy.

As such, Breakdown could only look on as Knockout dozed in Longhaul’s open-box bed. The barbarian hadn’t looked happy about getting into it, but he would not let Breakdown even try to argue that he could still ride his alt-mode. Frankly, no one in the crew was willing to even consider it. It was bad enough that Breakdown had to drive in the first place, so he was certainly not carrying Knockout on top of that.

Breakdown still missed Knockout’s warmth on his roof though.

“Alright. But how are you doing, you know, on an emotional level?” Breakdown’s engine hiccupped and stalled for a moment and Bulkhead snickered at him. “Come on, Break! You didn’t think I wouldn’t take a chance like this to check in on how things are going between you two, did you?”

“Seems to me you’re all constantly doing that,” Breakdown grumbled, keeping his voice down so it would barely be heard over his engine. He didn’t actually mind the chance to talk with Bulkhead about it, but he preferred to keep it between just the two of them.

“That’s teasing,” Bulkhead insisted. “But I haven’t heard it from your mouth for a couple of days, what with your new boyfriend hanging all over you all the time. I’m curious how bad it’s gotten since then.”

Breakdown’s first instinct was to brush it off. It flustered him to consider actually voicing all the feelings he was having out loud and admitting how right his friends were. However, it was starting to eat him alive, and tomorrow they would be in Praxis and he’d have to face it all—

“It’s really bad, Bulk.”

“Yeah?” Bulkhead sidled as close as they dare drive next to each other, pitching his voice down as well, the humor now gone. “I know you can fall pretty quick, but you’ve only known him, what, four days now?”

“Yeah,” Breakdown admitted, his chassis dipping tiredly as he ex-vented. “I know. I don’t think it’s ever hit this fast before but it has now and it’s really, really bad.”

Bulkhead’s engine puttered as he said, reassuringly, “Well, I mean, at least it seems like he’s interested in you too, right?”

Image captures of the night before, of Knockout’s arched back as he grinned up at him and his digits traced Breakdown’s lips, overwhelmed Breakdown for a moment before he could shove them back down.

“He’s interested all right,” Breakdown said, ignoring Bulkhead’s intrigued rev at that, “but I have no way of knowing if it’s like how I feel or if he’s just looking for a hookup or whatever. How the frag am I supposed to even try to have that conversation with him? And even if I could and even if we were on the same wavelength, what’s the point if he’s just gonna go back to his tribe in a couple days, you know?”

There was a beat as Breakdown just ventilated harshly with frustration and Bulkhead seemed to consider him.

“Ok Break, let’s just take this a step at a time,” Bulkhead finally said reassuringly. “You know he’s interested?”

Breakdown’s spark raced as he admitted, “Yeah. Before all the scrap happened last night, he asked me to kiss him.”

“And did ya?”

“…No.”

Bulkhead ex-vented loudly but when he spoke, it still lacked any real teasing or frustration. “Because you don’t know where this thing is going?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I tried to explain that to him, and I think something got through because he wasn’t upset about it, but who fragging knows.”

Bulkhead hummed noncommittally

“So ideally you would want to pursue something with him?”

“There’s no way that we can though, Bulk, that’s the problem–”

“But you want to.”

Breakdown’s spark swelled with affection and that quiet mantra of  _stay here_.

“Primus do I want to.”

“Then maybe you should stop thinking so much and just go for it,” Bulkhead suggested, casual as can be, as if he wasn’t suggesting the impossible. When Breakdown’s engine guttered, Bulkhead said, “I mean it! Look we’re not the smartest bots around. We both know that. But that’s not a bad thing as far as I’m concerned. Smart bots get caught up in all the details, planning their lives out decades in advance and all that slag, and then they lose their processors when life goes a different way than they planned, y’know? Whereas we just accept that we don’t know what the frag is gonna happen and just make our best go at it.”

“But I’m pretty sure I do know what’s gonna happen.”

“Pretty sure isn’t the same as knowing! You can’t even ask Knockout how he feels yet, so what makes you so sure you know what’s going on in that helm of his, hm?”

There was no way, given the distance and the volume at which they spoke, that Knockout would have been able to hear them. And yet still the barbarian shifted in Longhaul’s bed, languidly stretching, his servos flexing.

Breakdown internally flinched as he recalled how Knockout refused to say if he wanted Breakdown in return.  _Not yet_ , whatever that meant.

“I mean, I guess I don’t know what he thinks.”

“Exactly. So instead of holding yourself back because of maybes, you should listen to your ol’ pal Bulkhead and communicate the one way you do have.  _Show_ Knockout how you feel!”

For a moment it looked as if Knockout was just resettling, still half in recharge and ready to slip back in once he rolled over onto his front.

“To what end? He’s not gonna stay–”

“You don’t know that.”

However, as he settled, Knockout’s optics flickered on. It was hard to tell from the distance but Breakdown would have sworn the barbarian was looking at him. Breakdown’s spark gave another longing pulse.

“It won’t have even been a full week by the time he’s healed up! He’s not gonna stay with a mech like me that he’s only known for a few days–”

“ _You don’t know that_ ,” Bulkhead insisted. “Maybe he’ll want to give this relationship a trial run, you know? He’s probably never been to a city so maybe he’ll like it and decide to stick around and give dating you a whirl while he’s at it.”

Knockout moved his arms to rest his chin on them and one servo lifted just a bit, claws wiggling in a little wave, and it was most certainly for Breakdown. There was no way for Breakdown to stop his engine from revving a hair louder.

Next to him, Bulkhead chuckled.

“I mean, frag, when he does scrap like that? I wouldn’t be surprised if Knockout tries to drag you back with him to his tribe to be his barbarian mate.”

Breakdown’s frame burned with embarrassment and, Primus strike him where he drove, a little dose of flattery. “It doesn’t take a genius to look at me and figure out I wouldn’t last a day living out here,” he joked, even as he flicked his lights off and on, just enough to let Knockout know he saw him.

Knockout’s helm tipped to one side and his lips curled into a lazy smile. His optics dimmed but didn’t offline right away, just continuing to watch from his perch.

Bulkhead huffed softly and gently bumped his fender against Breakdown’s.

“All I’m saying is that even with your busted optic, you have to be able to see that you’re not the only one who has it bad.”

For the first time in days, Breakdown could feel his processor ease and his spark release the tension it had held.

“Thanks, Bulk. I’ll think about it.”

“Just don’t take too long. Now go on,” Bulkhead said, slowing quickly until he could slip behind Breakdown and accelerated to try to push him ahead faster. “Don’t keep your little barbarian waiting! He looks eager to butcher common in an attempt to communicate with you!”

Breakdown couldn’t help a chuckle of his own as he let his engine stall just long enough that Bulkhead’s tires spun with the effort of trying to push his mass. Then, with a hum, Breakdown picked up the pace so that he could drive just behind Longhaul.

“So, finally not mad at me anymore?”

Knockout’s optics brightened and his smile widened and it was worth the collective snickering of the constructicons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Slinks in* Hey gang, long time no Knocked Out, oops
> 
> I was busy with finishing a commission and nearly finishing the second and then, you know. Real life. But I’m back and these boys are still precious and falling in love so hopefully that makes up for it.
> 
> (Also lmao please excuse my Blaschko’s Lines (robotisized into Blastko’s) joke. How else am I supposed to use my biology degree?)
> 
> Thank you all so much for your kudos and comments! You're the wind beneath my creative wings and I cannot tell you how much they mean to me.


	9. Chapter 9

The stream was picturesque.

Sure, it was one of the few that flowed with just water which wasn’t especially exciting since it was only useful for quick washes and even then required scrubbing. Any self-respecting mech that was going out of their way for a natural wash would have gone for a solvent stream or, if they were really treating their self, head to an oil spring. As such, there wasn’t a mech in sight. The stream was more of a burden than anything, requiring a bridge that crossed over it to continue the path to Praxis. Even the bridge itself looked to be in disrepair over the forgettable stream.

But to Breakdown, whose armor itched with dried and flaking energon and webbing?

It was beautiful and he didn’t even think twice before driving straight for it with Bulkhead and a couple of the constructicons following after. With a hop and a transformation, Breakdown broke through the calm surface like a cannonball and was consumed by the soothing liquid splashing past armor plates to soak into the grime and dust as his aft hit the bottom.

The stream wasn’t particularly deep – Breakdown would be able to stand on the bottom where it was deepest and the water would only reach mid-chest. As it was, he settled down on his aft under the water, enjoying the submersion.

Breakdown kept his engine and similarly sensitive systems clamped tight, but despite the warnings that popped up on his HUD he allowed his vents to open and let the water splash in and the air burst out in large bubbles. Once completely filled Breakdown finally got to his pedes, breaking through the water’s surface and stretching his frame up with relief. Water streamed out from his vents and he took the fresh air entering in its place and pushed it through the rest of his ventilation system, forcing the water back out with loud spluttering ex-vents and jets of water before sealing his vents shut.

His ex-vents were chorused by Bulkhead’s and Scavenger’s.

“How many fragging times do I have to tell you idiots not to do that with water?!” Hook shouted. Breakdown shook his helm to clear the water sticking to his optic before he could see the medic watching them irritably. “Feeling good now won’t mean scrap when you’re ex-venting rust!”

An old argument that had Breakdown smirking as he shrugged and fell back into the water, though this time settling his aft closer to the edge of the stream so his helm and shoulders were above the surface, and keeping his vents shut against the water.

“Relax!” Scavenger shouted back as he scrambled out of the stream, dripping everywhere as he strolled up to Hook. “It’s as dry out as the unmaker’s valve today so it’ll dry real quick. Come on, it feels great to get the dust out–”

Hook grimaced at the wet servo grasping at his wrist as Scavenger tugged him towards the stream. “Stop that! I’ll wash off  _safely_ and then I’ll have the time of my functioning laughing at your rusty vents–”

Without warning, Bonecrusher took a running sprint towards Hook and collided with his back, sending them both toppling over into the stream to the cacophonous laughter of nearly the entire crew. Mixmaster laughed so hard he choked and sputtered on the water still in his vents and Bulkhead had to slap him on the back to help him finish blowing it all out.

Scrapper just ex-vented tiredly as he helped Knockout out of Longhaul’s bed so that Longhaul could safely transform before racing to join them. Breakdown felt a pang of guilt, but Knockout’s optics were bright with amusement as he snickered at their antics, trusting Scrapper to settle him on his pedes before gratefully but assuredly waving him off. Longhaul splashed down next to Breakdown, washing a wave of water over him that Breakdown had to shake off before focusing again. By then Knockout had made his way next to the stream and was bending his good knee to sit as close to Breakdown as he could while still staying on the dry ground.

The constructicons were busy calling their leader into the water while also trying to escape from Hook’s blustering as he coughed water out of his vents, and if Breakdown was lucky then Bulkhead was occupied by the chaos too.

Either way, there was no way that Breakdown could resist making his way over to Knockout. The ground gave way sharply where water met dry metal, so Breakdown could sit right by Knockout while keeping his frame submerged from the hips down.

“Sorry, I swear I didn’t forget you, Knockout. I was just excited to wash all this gunk off,” Breakdown said in way of apology, waving his servo towards his frame. Already the webbing was coming off, some of it in wet globs while sections that were just thin layers simply disintegrated away. The dried energon was also nearly invisible to the optic now, washing away with the water and what was left was nearly indistinguishable from his paintjob when wet.

“It’s ok,” Knockout said easily. If anything, the barbarian seemed eager to take the opportunity to consider Breakdown’s frame, his gaze trailing across his chest, down his abdominal armor, and then he even tipped forward to peek down at his lap—

Knockout yelped indignantly when Breakdown flicked water at his face.

“Here I am, trying to be nice, and you’re just being a creep,” Breakdown teased, hoping that it might cover for the rush of flustered heat that bubbled in his chassis. Knockout pursed his lips in what he would have no doubt insisted wasn’t a pout as he rubbed at his face, but he clearly wasn’t genuinely mad about the water.

“I’m not sorry,” he insisted petulantly.

“Course you’re not. Dunno why it gets you so excited anyway though. Surely you’ve gotten enough chances to look to last a lifetime,” Breakdown said, unsurprised when Knockout just blinked at him. He shrugged, deciding that of all the conversations they could try to have, Knockout’s lewd glances at his crotch wasn’t the one he wanted to go down. So instead Breakdown asked, “You gonna join the citymech nudity party and wash off?”

Knockout’s helm tilted nearly imperceptibly at the questioning tone, gaze turning hazy as he scrolled through his processor.

His optic ridges furrowing in closer together was all the hint Breakdown needed to know he had to give it another go.

“Are you going to take that off,” –  Breakdown pointed at the towel that had been wrapped around Knockout’s hips since the day that Breakdown handed it to him – “so that you can get into the stream,” – he gestured at the water next to him – “and wash off?” – and finally scrubbed his servo along his own arm.

Understanding dawned on Knockout’s face but in its place was a hint of that rarely seen fluster. Knockout’s optics had widened and darted down to his own lap. His mouth drew into a tight line as he considered it, lifting at a corner of the old towel. It hadn’t been especially nice to start with, but being worn by the barbarian for the last few days had made the already faded blue dingy with metallic dust and a couple splotches of old energon from where the medic had wiped his servos on it while working on his own injury as well as Breakdown’s.

Knockout’s gaze flicked back up to Breakdown’s face, then off towards the rest of the crew – who were at that point finally starting to settle down and pull out their cleaning supplies, though Hook was still ranting Bonecrusher’s audial off – before returning to Breakdown.

“It’s ok?” Knockout confirmed as his digits moved to the emblem pinning the makeshift clothing in place. “Tribe don’t being a creep?”

That took Breakdown a second to interpret before he nearly laughed with surprise. “No, nobody is going to creep on you, Knockout,” Breakdown assured. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we don’t wear clothing to start with.” He waved at the crew and then down at his own lap with an easy shrug. “It’s no big deal for us. You can wash off without worrying about wandering optics, I promise.”

Appeased by whatever part of that he understood, Knockout undid the little metallic emblem and carefully subspaced it before unfurling the towel from around his hips. Breakdown was caught between intrigue – he had wondered how the towel was wrapped since, on a few occasions, he had seen that it was looped between his legs too, making sure there was no way to peek at the plating beneath – and not wanting Knockout to misunderstand and think that he was checking him out.

Respect beat out curiosity and Breakdown turned his helm away so that Knockout would know for sure he wasn’t looking.

However, that only earned him an amused tutting sound.

“Breakdown can creep on me,” Knockout said with a tone somewhere between inviting and teasing. Breakdown was endlessly thankful for the cool water that helped to keep his frame from heating up enough to trigger his fans.

“You’re the creep, not me,” he argued and Knockout’s laugh in response was rich and musical.

“Not menace?”

“That too,” Breakdown admitted, grinning despite himself. He shifted a bit further into the stream until his waist was covered and then leaned back so he could brace his elbows on the solid dry ground, letting himself simply lounge for the moment.

Hook had finally settled down, placated by Scavenger and Bonecrusher scrubbing at his back plating, rags bubbling with cleaning solution. Longhaul and Mixmaster were in the middle of sudsing up their own towels and Scrapper had already cornered Bulkhead brandishing a coarse scrubber to help rub away the webbing. Once Knockout got over his nudity jitters, Breakdown would see if he couldn’t convince the barbarian to join in. Nothing quite bolstered companionship like helping each other wash off–

A small splash to his right caught Breakdown’s attention and he glanced over to see Knockout carefully seated parallel to the stream, his good leg bent to stabilize him as he leaned over to dunk the towel in. After rubbing the towel against itself a couple of times to truly soak it and scrub away the loosest of debris, Knockout wrung it out before settling it into his lap.

Despite all that he had said, Breakdown’s optics lingered for a moment on Knockout’s hip. He had forgotten that the barbarian’s paint there was that gorgeous crimson, and since it had been hidden away it wasn’t marred by as much dust as the rest of Knockout’s frame, so it glittered appealingly.

Primus, Knockout would be absolutely irresistible if he was buffed and waxed.

“Creep,” Knockout teased, even as he focused on lightly dusting the wet towel with a loose powder from vial he must have pulled out when Breakdown wasn’t looking.

Breakdown felt his face burst with heat as he forced his gaze up to Knockout’s face.

“Whoa, no, I was just – I forgot you had red paint there, that’s all, I wasn’t–”

Knockout reached out to flick one of his digits in the space between Breakdown’s optics and mouth, smirking as he repeated, “Creep.”

Breakdown frowned as he rubbed his face, aware that he couldn’t really argue. Knockout had caught him fair and square.

Obviously pleased with Breakdown’s acceptance, Knockout returned his focus to the towel in his lap. Now coated in whatever he’d put on it, he folded the towel up in his servos and again rubbed it against itself until bubbles started to form and spill out from the creases. Satisfied with his work, Knockout placed the towel back into the stream, unfurling it for a moment before balling it up again to work at with his servos. Knockout looked a bit precariously balanced as he did this though.

“You know, that would probably be easier if you just got in,” Breakdown pointed out. Knockout’s optic ridges lifted in question, optics flicking up even as he continued to knead the towel under the surface of the water, clearly looking for clarification. With a gesture towards Knockout and then at the stream, Breakdown said, “You should get in the water.”

And, of all things, that just made Knockout frown.

“I can’t,” he replied, lifting his braced leg slightly to emphasize it. “Glue can’t in the water.”

“Oh scrap, really?” Breakdown grimaced as he recalled how Knockout had easily washed away the glue stuck to his servos after applying it by pouring liquid on them. That would, indeed, make it impossible for the barbarian to jump in like the rest of them.

Knockout nodded as he returned his focus to the towel which was starting to drip clear water instead of soapy. He stretched the fabric out, looking with a keen optic, before seemingly pleased and wringing it dry. When Knockout noticed that Breakdown was still despondent about his inability to get into the stream, he huffed an ex-vent. “It’s ok,” he said, resigned, before carefully pushing up onto his pedes. Breakdown watched as Knockout spied a nearby crystal growth and walked over to drape the wet towel over it to dry.

And, alright, maybe he did notice how Knockout’s hips swayed.

But most of Breakdown’s focus was on the frown that did not leave Knockout’s face.

“Do you want to wash off?”

“It’s ok,” Knockout insisted with a hint of frustration slipping out now.

“But you want to?”

Knockout turned towards him, lips a tight line as he snapped “Yes, of course!” The barbarian gestured towards his chest and then his legs – which were covered in a layer of dust and grime – as if they personally affronted him. “I want to wash off, but can’t with leg, so it’s ok.” Given the irritated look on Knockout’s face, Breakdown could tell that ‘it’s ok’ wasn’t really the phrase that Knockout was looking for.

Knockout’s pouting was, honestly, adorable.

Breakdown pushed off the edge and stood up, his plating flicking off the rivulets of water running down his frame as he gestured Knockout over. “Alright, alright, come here.”

Knockout watched him oddly and didn’t step closer. Breakdown snorted as he then settled on the edge of the stream, his pedes hanging off to dip into the water.

“Come on, we don’t have all day!”

Knockout shifted on his pedes before making his way over. Breakdown used every ounce of strength in his frame to keep his optics on Knockout’s face, which was ridiculous because he shouldn’t be so distracted by Knockout’s hips – clothing wasn’t a thing for him! But something about having had that armor hidden away gave it a whole new appeal that Breakdown was unsure how to handle.

Breakdown behaved himself though as Knockout made it to him and stared down at him. With a placating smile, Breakdown patted the ground next to him by the stream and then held out his servo to help Knockout down. It took a little maneuvering, but Knockout interest was piqued enough that he let Breakdown move him until they were sat angled towards but not fully facing one another with Knockout’s pedes draped across Breakdown’s lap. That done, Breakdown reached into his subspace to pull out his rag and some cleaning solution.

“Breakdown?”

“Yeah?” Breakdown asked as he bent over to soak the rag in the stream.

Knockout huffed irritably, no doubt because Breakdown was leaving him to have to figure out the words he wanted, and Breakdown’s lips twitched at the corners with entertainment.

“What’s this?”

“I’m washing you.”

Knockout’s optics widened at first with surprise. But then they brightened further with something much more pleasant when Breakdown wrung out the rag so it was just damp as he got to work wiping down Knockout’s pede on his injured leg.

And then the barbarian’s engine revved with interest as Knockout made himself comfortable.

It was definitely a slower process compared with washing in the stream, but Breakdown didn’t mind all that much. He was used to getting caked with grime from construction sites and often having to go for weeks without the chance to take a true bath or even shower. Sometimes the best the crew had was the hoses they had on site to get off the worst of the mess. As such, washing was a luxury for Breakdown, so it was well worth any amount of time it required when the chance presented itself.

And if Breakdown also enjoyed the chance to run his servos across Knockouts plating, well. Knockout didn’t seem to mind either way.

Once Knockout’s leg from the knee down was wetted – with careful attention focused on making sure none of the droplets followed along the curves to slip into the injury – Breakdown sudsed up a sponge and scrubbed away the layers of dust and days old energon that clung more sternly to the armor plates. He took care to get into all the nooks and around all the edges, cleaning wires and tubes that were exposed through the gaps in plating and straightening out any kinks he found in them as he did. By the time Breakdown had finished that section and had switched back to the rag to rinse away the cleaner, Knockout’s chassis rumbled with the unbridled purring of his engine, his optics half lidded as he casually watched Breakdown work. The barbarian’s frame was completely relaxed and easily let itself be moved any way that Breakdown placed it.

Breakdown only hesitated for a moment before moving up to Knockout’s thigh. Knockout’s optics flickered, but ultimately dimmed again when Breakdown kept his focus on the task at hand and kept his own optics on his servos as he worked. The plating there was much more streamlined so it only took a few minutes to finish cleaning it and move on.

Knockout had squirmed ever so minutely a few times, but Breakdown let it slide without teasing. He already knew the barbarian had some concerns about his hips and crotch being exposed so bringing it up was likely to only make things worse. Breakdown was determined that this was going to be nothing but a pleasant experience.

Breakdown did take a moment to admire his handiwork though as Knockout’s plating glittered in the sunlight, his reds brilliant and the chromes sleek.

Apparently Knockout was impressed as well since he lifted his leg to glance it over himself, his mouth curling into an easy grin.

And then suddenly he lifted it up and over Breakdown’s shoulder to lay behind him while Knockout’s good leg jiggled, clearly eager for the same treatment.

Breakdown wasn’t about to deny him that.

Without an injury to be careful around, Breakdown was able to do the whole leg in one go, rinsing first from the bottom of Knockout’s pede to the top of his thigh. The rate was quickened since Breakdown could wring out the towel over Knockout’s leg to get more water on faster. Next was the sponge with cleaner, and again Breakdown paid careful attention to clean every inch of plating and dip into every gap. It was tricky getting his thick digits into the wheel well of Knockout’s pede, but it was well worth it to hear Knockout’s ventilations hitch and, with continued attention to the tire rim and grooves, stuttered giggles slip out from between gritted dentae.

The fact that Knockout was ticklish absolutely charmed Breakdown as he watched Knockout try not to squirm even as his face twisted delightfully.

However, Breakdown had seen how powerful Knockout’s kicks could be, so he didn’t let his servo linger longer than necessary.

With a quick rinse the second leg was done. Knockout gave it a long look, his lips curled up as he dragged his digits along the now smooth surface.

“Pretty good, right?” Breakdown asked, and he knew his pride was easy to read on his face.

Knockout’s grin only grew. “ _Yes_ ,” he replied, practically cooed it really as the digits on his leg moved to stroke where Breakdown’s servo had lingered on his knee. Breakdown wasn’t sure what had startled him more – that he had left his servo there without realizing or that the simple touch of Knockout’s digits on it had his insides melting into helpless goo.

“Well, uh,” Breakdown stammered as he awkwardly patted Knockout’s knee before pulling his servo away, “we should probably get the rest of you clean too, right? I’ll get your back–”

Cleaning was apparently the best way to redirect Knockout’s attention. Immediately, half-lidded optics widened with glee as he lifted his leg from Breakdown’s lap and swiveled so his back was to the stream. Knockout bent his good knee and then lifted his injured one up to rest on it, up and away from any stray water that could drip down his torso, and then dug into his subspace to pull out a small rag made of some material that Breakdown didn’t recognize and a small bowl.

“You wash off back,” Knockout confirmed as he turned his torso to dip his bowl into the stream and then placed it at his side, full of water, “I wash off front.”

Breakdown huffed a chuckle as he slipped into the stream and stood behind Knockout, replying sarcastically, “Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir.”

Knockout looked over his shoulder, optic ridge raised, looking so smug that Breakdown couldn’t help dipping his digits into the stream so he could reach up and flick the water in Knockout’s face again. The barbarian flinched and hissed before scrubbing at his face while grumbling, and Breakdown snickered in response.

“Not my fault that you’re cute when you’re mad,” Breakdown insisted as he got to work wetting his towel and rubbing it across Knockout’s shoulders, the excess water splashing down to soak the rest of his back. At first Knockout let it pass, focused instead on soaking his own rag in his bowl and starting on the front of his shoulders. Again, since neither of them were avoiding injuries, it was quick work to move on to working the sudsy sponge against Knockout’s back while Knockout washed with his own cleaner.

That was when Knockout finally asked, “What’s cute?”

That brought Breakdown up short, his sponge stilling where he was washing between Knockout’s shoulder pauldrons.

“You’re cute,” Breakdown settled on as he slowly started to work again. Knockout huffed irritably, but before he could repeat the question, Breakdown continued, “Honestly, that’s the best I got. I don’t know how to explain what cute is, so you’ll have to wait until Praxis for that one.”

Which was tomorrow. Breakdown refused to let his spark get caught up in that melancholy though.

Knockout wasn’t happy about his question going unanswered but let it drop.

Truthfully, beyond the shoulder pauldrons, Knockout’s back was simpler to wash. Breakdown finished most of it before Knockout finished his front and arms, so he decided to give the wheels on the barbarian’s back a more thorough scrub. They weren’t ticklish the way that the ones in Knockout’s pedes were, but that wasn’t much of a surprise – these ones were out in the open while the ones in Knockout’s pedes were tucked away and thus likely rarely touched when he was in his root mode. So, pretty sure it wasn’t going to earn him any protests, Breakdown slipped his digits in as deep as he could reach to wash the insides of the wheel well and all the mechanism hidden there.

It wasn’t until Breakdown grabbed the tire to rotate it just a bit to reach a spot just beyond the reach his digits at its current angle that Knockout’s shoulders hitched. The barbarian didn’t protest though, still scrubbing at his left arm, so Breakdown experimentally tugged the tire again. That was when he noticed how stiffly the tire moved, needing a greater deal of strength to make it spin than it should have.

“Haven’t been able to transform for a while, huh?” Breakdown asked as he held the spindle tightly with one servo while slowly but surely rolling Knockout’s tire with the other. He hadn’t put much thought into how long Knockout might have been captured for, and then with the leg injury transformation simply wasn’t an option. The lack of use was no doubt putting tension and stress into his alt-mode kibble, especially his tires.

In lieu of a true response, Knockout’s servos went completely still and he stifled a noise in his vocalizer.

“Does it hurt?” Breakdown asked, but Knockout shook his helm.

“No.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” Knockout repeated as Breakdown finished a full rotation of the tire and the barbarian’s plating rattled quietly in a small shudder. “Don’t stop.”

With each full rotation, Breakdown could see the tension leaving Knockout’s frame as his plating fell lax and his shoulders drooped with contentedness. It picked up a bit when Breakdown moved on to start rotating the other wheel, making sure to keep the movement slow for the first few spins until the tension eased away. Knockout ex-vented with relief as his helm tipped forward, just enjoying the impromptu massage of sorts, his hinges shifting to press his tires further into Breakdown’s servos.

The barbarian murmured something in his own language, likely just talking to himself, but it sounded complimentary.

And Breakdown definitely picked up the word  _Barithi_  in there.

Something about the way that Airachnid had looked at him with disbelief when Knockout said it the night before, and how Knockout had confirmed it while patting Breakdown’s chest—

“What’s a  _barithi_?”

Knockout tipped his helm back and to the side to stare at Breakdown with the smirk.

“You’re a  _barithi_.”

Breakdown frowned, grumbling, “Yeah, alright, I can see now how that’s annoying,” as Knockout shifted out of his grasp. The barbarian just chuckled as he lifted his bowl and carefully tilted it to start splashing down his frame to rinse away the suds. He did one half-circle with it around his front half before twisting to refill it. Meanwhile, Breakdown picked up his rag to help rinse off his back.

“This is  _my_  leg, yes?” Knockout continued though, gesturing at his legs as he put the emphasis on the word ‘my.’ Probably making sure he understood the use of the word before moving forward.

“Yeah. That’s your leg.”

Knockout shifted away again, splashing the water from his bowl down his back before his plating shook for a moment to flick the liquid away. Some of it got on Breakdown, but he didn’t complain since he likely deserved it for the droplets he had flicked at Knockout. Apparently satisfied, Knockout spun on his aft so he was facing Breakdown again, looking down at Breakdown since he was kneeling in the water at the edge of the stream. His smirk shifted into a soft, sweet smile.

“You’re my  _barithi_ ,” Knockout said, as if that explained it all.

As if confirmation that it was some sort of connection between them didn’t just ignite a million more questions in Breakdown’s processor and make his spark pulse wildly.

“Ok,” Breakdown said, sure that his confusion was evident as his face twisted. “So does that mean I’m your friend?”

Knockout’s smile morphed back into a smirk before Breakdown’s optic and the barbarian shrugged. Breakdown heaved a ventilation, careful to keep his vents that were submerged shut as he did.

“Uhh, well, Bulkhead is my friend,” Breakdown said, turning slightly to gesture at Bulkhead. Upon looking over at the crew though, all of his companions turned their helms away suspiciously, and Breakdown felt embarrassment crawl under his plating that they had been watching. Nosy slaggers—

“Bulkhead not your  _barithi_ ,” Knockout said which had Breakdown’s attention snapping back to him. Knockout shifted his aft back so he could lean on his servos, leaning closer to Breakdown. “ _Barithi_  is not friend.”

Breakdown’s spark ached.

“So not a friend,” he acknowledged. Breakdown had to reboot his vocalizer before he managed to ask, quietly so his friends wouldn’t hear and far more hopefully than he had intended, “More like a boyfriend then?”

Knockout’s optic ridges furrowed.

“Not friend,” he reminded Breakdown.

“Yeah, no, I get that. I’m saying a  _boyfriend_ , not a friend-friend. It’s different.” Primus but Breakdown could feel his frame heat up as his spark whirled frantically in his spark. “It’s romantic as opposed to friendly. Although – frag, ok, I don’t know if I can explain that either.” This was definitely a conversation better saved for later but he didn’t want to wait. “But like – like kissing, ok, that’s something you do with a boyfriend, but not a friend-friend.” Bulkhead’s earlier encouragement was echoing in his processor and it was so,  _so_ tempting to just go all in immediately. “So since Bulkhead is a friend, I wouldn’t kiss him. Well, ok, maybe when I was overcharged and lonely but–”

Hope was a floodgate and it was overwhelming.

And, thank Primus above, Knockout reached up one digit to press to Breakdown’s lips to quiet him.

“You want me?” Knockout asked and smiled broader when Breakdown just nodded, not sure he trusted himself to talk without rambling again. The barbarian leaned further on the servo he had on the edge of the stream, leaning  _closer_ , and murmured in his rich baritone, “You want me, you’re my  _barithi_.”

That wasn’t an answer, not really, but Breakdown felt an odd relief settle in his spark anyway.

Whatever this was between them, they both recognized it wasn’t platonic, and there was something far too affectionate in the way that Knockout’s digits stroked up along the line of his cheek and around to cup the side of his helm to just be looking for a one-off frag.

“I’ll take your word for it then,” Breakdown said with a huff of his vents. Apparently pleased with that, Knockout let go of Breakdown’s plating, but barely a flicker of disappointment could cross Breakdown’s processor before the servo returned with a damp rag. With all the delicate care in the world, Knockout used his clawed digits to stroke the rag through the tight corners of Breakdown’s face, focusing around his broken optic. It was with a jolt that Breakdown realized he probably still had dried energon caked into the cracks from it.

“So. Does that mean you’re my  _barithi_?”

“No,” Knockout said, not a rejection, just a correction.

Breakdown sucked his bottom lip between his dentae, worrying it for a moment before asking, “Because you don’t want me, or–”

The rag was all but slapped into his face and Knockout’s servo rubbed it in almost cruelly as he insisted, “No don’t. I can’t tell yet, idiot.”

“Alright, alright!” Breakdown relinquished, and despite himself a laugh broke loose. It was nice to see Knockout get worked up over him, even if he was the victim of it. “Sorry, I know. You can’t say yet. You can’t fault a mech for trying though.”

The rag was removed and Knockout rolled his optics before returning to his detail work.

“One more question?”

One of Knockout’s ridges quirked and his gaze flicked to Breakdown’s.

“Am I a good  _barithi_?” Breakdown asked, and alright, maybe he curled his mouth up into the most charming grin he had in his arsenal. He didn’t have many of them, but this one always got the job done.

Judging by the way Knockout’s optics brightened and his lips slowly curled up, it worked.

Knockout’s rag-covered digit traced down the line where the protoform of Breakdown’s face met the armor flanking the sides of it – down past the corner of Breakdown’s mouth to linger on his chin. “Yes,” he replied, tone bright with good humor and reassurance, “you’re a good  _barithi_.”

“Really good?” Breakdown pushed and Knockout laughed, optics flickering as the corners around them threatened to crinkle with how the smile reached all the way up to them, every inch of his face smiling and laughing.

“Yes, really good,” Knockout managed. Some of his digits slipped under Breakdown’s chin, the rag more or less forgotten as the barbarian had Breakdown’s face caught in his loose grip.

“Really,  _really_ –”

Knockout’s whole frame shook as his laughter drowned Breakdown out, the rich sound washing over Breakdown like something nearly holy, and this time it was Breakdown who leaned closer as his chassis rumbled with his own laughter in turn.

With a surprised click of his vocalizer, Knockout’s crimson optics flared and his digits tightened their hold on Breakdown’s chin. But even as his laughter quieted he moved closer, his ex-vents brushing against Breakdown’s face now.

“My question now?” Knockout asked in a hushed voice, barely loud enough for even Breakdown to hear.

“Yeah. Go for it.”

Knockout’s lips parted long enough for him to wet them and Breakdown was pretty sure his spark was ready to rip its way out of his chest.

The hope in Knockout’s optics belied the smug angle of his mouth as he asked, “I and you still don’t kiss yet?”

Breakdown’s servos tightened their hold on the stream edge – a hold he hadn’t even realized he had – until the ground started to give under his digits.

“Do kiss – I mean, yeah, I can. We can,” Breakdown managed, already subtly tilting his helm in invitation, because  _Primus_ , how could he say no when every circuit in his frame screamed  _yes_.

“You want to?”

“Yeah.”

Knockout’s mouth was so close—

But then Knockout stilled, just for a moment, his optics flicking to look somewhere just past Breakdown. When they returned to Breakdown’s face, mischief sparkled in them.

Before Breakdown could have even thought to do anything about it, Knockout’s good pede was in the middle of his chest and pushing hard enough to send him toppling backwards with a large splash. Open vents let water flood back into his ventilation system and Breakdown hadn’t been prepared for it, so by the time he was able to get his pedes under him and stand, he was coughing and sputtering water out any vent that wasn’t still under the water. Vaguely Breakdown could hear the obnoxiously loud whooping and howling of his crew, but his focus was on Knockout who had managed to scramble to his pedes and was doing his best to race towards where he had laid out the towel he wore to dry.

“What the frag!?” Breakdown shouted as his vents jettisoned out another spray of water.

Knockout glanced over his shoulder at him, his face split in a huge slag-eating grin and his optics impossibly bright. And then he plucked up his makeshift clothing and continued his hobbling sprint, awkwardly wrapping it around himself as he went.

Though not without glancing back again and winking at Breakdown.

Once it clicked in his processor, Breakdown snorted as he shook his helm and sloshed his way back to the edge of the stream to haul himself out.

Even from the distance, Breakdown could see the glee in Knockout’s expression when he saw him following after.

If the slagger wanted to be chased, than by Primus, Breakdown would give chase.

For all of a moment Breakdown considered transforming. But while Knockout would no doubt have been able to run circles around him normally, the barbarian was greatly hindered by his braced leg, hopping and limping as he was, and after only a couple long strides Breakdown knew he could catch up quickly. He wasn’t made for speed like Knockout, but Breakdown gave it his all as he sprinted after him, dripping water behind him as he did.

The crew was still making a ruckus, but now they were hooting and yelling encouragement after him.

“Come on, Break! You can do it!”

“You’re catching up to him!”

“Show him what you’re made of!”

“You got him, you got him!”

With one last burst of energy, Breakdown had caught up and even took a step past, catching Knockout around the middle while the barbarian yelped and  _laughed_ , not even trying to push away as Breakdown lifted him off his pedes while his own skidded across the ground to bring them to a stop. In fact, Knockout threw his arms around Breakdown’s shoulders, clinging to him as Breakdown got his servos under his aft and under the thigh of his braced leg, holding it clear of his dripping wet frame.

“You’re a fragging menace,” Breakdown growled despite the smile on his face. Knockout didn’t seem the least bit intimidated as he just leaned into him, curling over the curve of his chest.

“I’m your menace,” Knockout purred as one of his servos grasped Breakdown by the back of his neck.

And then Knockout’s mouth was on his.

Kissing him.

Breakdown’s spark swelled, feeling as if it was choking him with a whirlwind of emotions as his hold on Knockout tightened. It wasn’t the soft and slow kiss that Breakdown had expected moments earlier, hesitant at the newness of this feeling. Instead it was insistent and hurried – ex-vents into each other’s mouth as their lips pressed together, clawed servos stroking and tugging at Breakdown like a lifeline and blunt servos holding Knockout like he would gladly carry him forever. As Knockout tilted his helm to slip his glossa past Breakdown’s lips as if to lay claim to him, Breakdown would have sworn it felt as if they had waited ages to finally let themselves have this.

Breakdown shuddered as Knockout caught his bottom lip between his dentae and the barbarian’s engine  _purred_.

“Slag me,” Breakdown ex-vented, his lips brushing Knockout’s as he spoke and receiving another kiss for the effort. And then a second. It wasn’t until after the third that Breakdown managed to say, half gasp and half laugh, “I think I might be falling in love with you, Knockout.”

Knockout murmured something then as he trailed his lips along Breakdown’s cheek, nuzzling and kissing as he spoke, all the words in his own language. Once he had finished his mouth found Breakdown’s again and this time it was slow and sweet.

Neither of them bothered to ask the other to explain himself.

And they both steadfastly ignored the cheering and whistling from their friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, y'all! I'm so utterly humbled and flattered that so many of you guys were wondering (but patiently! bless your hearts) about this silly fic of mine when it took me a while to finish the last chapter. So I guess consider this a gift for that!
> 
> ....but actually, I've just been so fucking excited to write this chapter for months that it practically wrote itself, haha. I'd guess that future chapters will usually take closer to two weeks.
> 
> And just in case, no, this is not ending territory yet. We still got another two chapters left, maybe three since I'm bad at estimating these things. We still have some communication problems to solve after all. ;o
> 
> I hope you enjoy and thank you all so much for your support!!


	10. Chapter 10

Nothing in the universe could have made Breakdown regret kissing Knockout.

However, the mixture of smug and excited expressions on the crew’s faces when Knockout dragged Breakdown back to the stream – “I’m washing you now” he had insisted while interlocking his digits with Breakdown’s and tugging at him – came close.

Knockout didn’t seem to mind one bit that the crew had gathered around the stream edge. In fact, when Bulkhead had greeted them with a teasing “Well hey there you two,” Knockout had grinned back at him while all but shoving Breakdown into the stream.

“Thank you, Bulkhead,” Knockout said with a wink and Breakdown groaned while Bulkhead laughed and slapped him on the back.

“Couldn’t let this idiot keep playing hard to get and torturing you both!”

With a huff, Breakdown sat in the water with his back to the edge and started to wash himself. It was impossible to hold onto any frustration he dragged up though when Knockout asked Scrapper for his coarse scrubber and then got to work on Breakdown’s back and shoulders. So Breakdown just stewed in his flustered embarrassment while avoiding the amused optics of his friends.

But then the constructicons started drying each other off, chatting among themselves as they did, and Bulkhead appeared in front of Breakdown with a rag to help wash off the spots that Breakdown couldn’t see past his chest. Eventually Scavenger started talking to Knockout, asking first if he could help dry him off, and then with that permission given he babbled about how they could get buffed and waxed once in Praxis – “You just seem like a mech who actually cares about his looks, unlike all these cheapskates I’m stuck with. It’s totally worth it. It’s amazing how much it helps with making colors pop. If it can help a big blockhead like me look good then it’ll blow Breakdown fragging processor when he sees you–”

And once everyone was clean and dried off and settling down for an early night, the worst that Breakdown got was the occasional slap on the shoulder and knowing look from the constructicons and the grin that Bulkhead shot him when Knockout flopped into Breakdown’s lap.

It was actually comfortable as the crew casually talked about their plans for the next day. They would arrive at Praxis before midday, so Breakdown could branch off to take Knockout to a doctor – one that Hook recommended readily, though he refused to go with them, simply saying that they had a history – while the rest of them contacted and met with the head of the project. They could settle into their lodgings and explore the site and hopefully give Breakdown plenty of time to figure out what was to be done about Knockout’s leg and when.

By the time they had finished with serious planning and started discussing which bars they should hit up first, Knockout had started to doze where he was tucked under and against Breakdown’s chest, his engine purring happily.

It was  _nice_.

And his crew was nice enough to not comment when Breakdown bent down just enough to press a small kiss to the top of Knockout’s helm, or when Knockout released a small ex-vent and nuzzled closer.

Primus but he hoped he was right and that Knockout wanted to figure out how to make this work.

* * *

Praxis wasn’t the largest city – Tarn won that competition due to the sprawling nature of its factories and dilapidated apartment buildings, tied with Vos only because in terms of height nothing could hold a flame to the towering Vosian skyscrapers. Praxis wasn’t even the prettiest city – the constructicons were more than happy to brag about the work they had put into the rightfully named Crystal City.

But what Praxis did have was culture and the shanix to afford it.

It was a busy melting pot of mecha looking to make names for themselves. The road between Praxis and Crystal City was so well worn with scientists coming and going that it had eventually been properly paved and had weekly shuttles going back and forth. Engineers, detailers, inventors, writers, artists – whatever their crafts and dreams, mecha brought them to Praxis looking for their big break in the guise of rich patrons taking interest in their street-side shops or a chance to present their work at The Assembly.

And mecha who had no particular aspirations besides living in a nice city but couldn’t afford Crystal City or Vos flocked to Praxis to reap the beauty and fun those starry-eyed mecha brought to their doorsteps. For that very same reason, tourists were plentiful, which meant traders were constantly traveling through to sell their wares alongside the dreamers.

Breakdown wasn’t sure he really fit in Praxis.

Certainly he wouldn’t have ever been able to afford it if work sites didn’t set up lodging for the crew while they worked. Maybe something small in the outskirts of the city beyond the safety of the walls if he was fast enough to beat out the hordes of mecha looking for that very same thing.

But even so, it was a city for movers and shakers, for creative processors and skilled servos in highly-regarded fields, and the mecha who liked to think they deserved to be around those types and had the shanix to back that belief.

Breakdown was a simple construction mech and he was satisfied with that lot in life. Truthfully he felt more at ease in cities like Tarn where mecha spent their days doing physical labor and their evenings drinking with friends. Even Kaon was fine since Breakdown was a big bot, and Kaon was a city that respected physical strength.

But at least Praxians didn’t look down on Breakdown the way that Crystalians did or Vosians no doubt would. He wasn’t special but he wasn’t scorned. Mecha of all shapes and sizes and alt-modes made their home in Praxis or just travelled through.

It was diverse enough that even Knockout didn’t get too many looks. Certainly there were some – though whether for his looks, the towel around his waist, or his braced leg, it was hard to tell – but nothing rude or looking for answers. If they had thought he was a barbarian, the most they showed was giving a slightly wider berth than usual. Any barbarian walking casually through Praxis would be seen as one of the rare barbarian traders brave enough to do their business with citymecha, meaning they brought goods that were scarce and worth any trouble that might come with them.

All in all, it was ideal for Breakdown that no one paid Knockout much mind since the barbarian’s face was nearly all optics with how wide and bright they were the second they made it through the suburbs and past the gates into the city proper.

Knockout looked torn between sheer curiosity, awe, and terror. Having Breakdown’s large servo intertwined with his while surrounded by Bulkhead and the constructicons kept the terror at bay though, so it only appeared when something particularly large or loud came across their path, and only in the form of Knockout’s armor clamping tight to his frame and his servo squeezing Breakdown’s. As long as Breakdown squeezed back and leaned down to explain in a calm voice, Knockout would ease back into curiosity and awe.

Breakdown was pretty sure Knockout didn’t actually understand any of his explanations, or at least very little. Explaining a pressure washer wasn’t exactly easy. But knowing that Breakdown knew and wasn’t worried about the various wonders of the city was enough to appease the barbarian. After all, Knockout had seen Devastator, massive and terrifying, and realized that Breakdown was right to say the titan wouldn’t hurt him. There was little on Cybertron more terrifying to behold than a gestalt of six combined, so if Knockout could trust Breakdown about Devastator, then anything that Praxis could possibly contain was easy to trust with Breakdown’s word.

Not that the constructicons didn’t also try to get some explanations of their own in. Longhaul and Scavenger were particularly invested in explaining things to Knockout, pointing them out and then arguing with each other about who could do a better charade. Hook tried to get them to cut it out with a couple smacks to their helms while insisting they could wait until  _after_ Knockout had common cybertronian installed.

It lasted all of five minutes before Knockout stared with obvious intrigue at a shop model showing off their extravagant buff, detailing, and wax jobs, and the two were back to falling over themselves to explain citymech fashion.

“And what do you two know about being fashionable?” Bonecrusher asked, his tone flat despite the flicker of his visor that gave him away. Mixmaster cackled and even Hook snorted.

Before the two had a chance to defend themselves, Scrapper interrupted, saying, “Alright, enough. This is our street.”

With that, the constructicons  _swarmed_ Knockout.

“Sorry we can’t come with, Knockout, but you’ll be fine! All fixed up and good to go before you know it.”

“Doc’s a mean bucket of bolts, but he’s nicer than Hook so you’ll be fine.”

“Frag you. But I’ll admit he’s good, even if he’s a pretentious slagger–”

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you? Just cause he knows more than you–”

“Say that again, I dare you–!”

Knockout was already snickering at the antics, though he quieted when Bonecrusher placed a servo on his shoulder.

“Try not to lose ‘im, Knockout,” he said, giving a little squeeze as his helm tilted towards Breakdown. “Cause if you get lost, we’re gonna have to tear up this city looking for ya, understand?”

Breakdown doubted he did, but Knockout still grinned and lifted his servo where it was holding Breakdown’s.

“Breakdown stay with me,” Knockout assured confidently. Bonecrusher nodded and, with one last pat, removed his servo.

Primus, if  _Bonecrusher_  was attached, Breakdown could only imagine how bad off the rest of the constructicons were. It would be a bad time all around if Knockout did leave.

When he left.

Primus, Breakdown didn’t even know what to think anymore. So he just shoved those thoughts back and ignored them as he tightened his grip on Knockout’s servo.

Finally the constructicons stepped back and Bulkhead quickly stepped up, grabbing Breakdown’s free servo to shove his shanix chip into it.

“Bulk–!”

“Oh no you don’t,” Bulkhead interrupted, removing his servos instantly and even clasping them behind his back so Breakdown couldn’t hand it back. “I told you before I’ll help out, so don’t be afraid to use some of my shanix, yeah?”

Breakdown huffed, but he closed his digits over it and carefully put it away in his subspace. “Thanks, Bulk.”

“Don’t even think about it.” Then Bulkhead clasped Knockout on the shoulder and said, “I’ll see you later, Knockout, yeah?”

“See you later?”

“Yeah! I’ll see,” he started, pointing at his optics and then down at Knockout, “you later. I—I don’t know how to explain later, but–”

Knockout waved him off though, nodding as he said, “Yes, you see I later.”

* * *

“So let’s see if I’ve got this straight,” the doctor said, his optics flicking from Breakdown to Knockout and back. “You saved some barbarians from some other barbarians, this one got his leg slagged, and you decided to pick him up and bring him all the way here because Hook recommended my services.”

Breakdown’s servo fisted in his lap as he nodded awkwardly.

“I mean, I brought him for a doctor in general, but Hook said if it wasn’t gonna be him, it would have to be you.”

The doctor leaned back a bit in his chair, optic ridge raised.

“Did it look like it hurt him to admit it?”

Breakdown had spent enough time around mean slaggers to know the sly gleam in the doctor’s optic, and it actually put him at ease to see. Professionals were intimidating, but mean slaggers were his day-to-day.

“You’d think he was ripping out his own spark, Doc.”

With a short laugh and a wave of his servo, he replied, “That sounds right. And don’t call me Doc – Ratchet will do just fine.” The doctor got to his pedes then and gestured Breakdown and Knockout to follow. “Alright, follow me back into the examine room and I’ll take a look at what we’re working with.”

Knockout stiffened next to Breakdown, though given how uncomfortable he had been since they had entered the clinic, it didn’t make all that much difference. Just enough for Breakdown to notice and pat his arm comfortingly as he asked Ratchet, “Right now? I thought you said you wouldn’t be able to do it today?”

Ratchet snorted as he gave another insistent gesture. “Yes, yes, I know what I said. But inventory can wait and you dragged this mech a long ways to see me. Unless you want to wait until my next free appointment three weeks from now–”

Breakdown nearly choked and stood up quickly. “Nope, right now is great. Come on, Knockout.”

Knockout stood up at Breakdown’s prompting, servo on his forearm, and Breakdown couldn’t help noticing, not for the first time, how cowed the barbarian had been acting since they had entered Praxis. While it was making this all easier, Breakdown still couldn’t say that he really liked it. He’d rather have badly translated arguments with Knockout than to see him just follow along, completely out of his element and overly cautious for it.

It was one thing to have travelled with the crew, but being surrounded by a whole city of mecha that Knockout couldn’t really understand, in language or culture, had to be a lot.

Breakdown paused before giving Ratchet an apologetic grimace as he said, “Actually, could you give us one second?”

Ratchet gave an exasperated ex-vent, but he waved his servo at Breakdown to do whatever he needed to.

Breakdown moved to face Knockout completely, his servos holding Knockout’s upper arms reassuringly. “You doing ok, Knockout?”

The barbarian blinked up at him, and then there it was. The fog of confusion lifted and Knockout rolled his optics as the corners of his lips curled up slightly. “Yes, I doing ok,” Knockout stated, all cool and casual confidence, hip cocking to one side. “Safe with you.”

Breakdown couldn’t help smiling as he said, “Yeah, you’re safe with me. But this is all still pretty intense for you, so I won’t be offended if you’re not doing ok. You can tell me if you’re scared.”

Knockout’s optics dulled for a moment before he shook his helm.

“I doing ok. Not scared,” he insisted with a little indignant scowl now. It didn’t fool Breakdown.

“Sure you aren’t, tough guy,” Breakdown teased, squeezing Knockout’s arms reassuringly. “Do you know why we’re here?”

“Why here?” Knockout clarified, and when Breakdown nodded, Knockout pursed his lips as he dug around his processor. Finally he tipped to one side, looking past Breakdown towards Ratchet. “You’re doctor?”

Ratchet looked startled at being included in the conversation. Or maybe he had already been surprised by their conversation and Breakdown hadn’t noticed since the doctor was behind him. Either way, Ratchet blinked before replying, “Yes, I’m a doctor.”

Knockout looked him up and down, not appearing especially impressed. “ _You_  fix my leg?”

Apparently that was enough to snap Ratchet out of his shock as he scowled. “Excuse me?”

“Ok, alright, enough of that!” Breakdown interrupted with a forced chuckle, hoping to defuse the situation. “Yes, Knockout, Ratchet is a  _very good_  doctor who is going to fix your leg like I promised. So be nice, ok?”

Knockout stared at him in confusion.

“Nice?”

Ratchet snorted behind Breakdown.

“Maybe you should have started with teaching him that word,” Ratchet said before stepping up next to Breakdown. Without waiting for any sort of retort, he focused on Knockout, saying, “Course, I just assumed you didn’t know any common, so look who’s talking. Let’s try again since we’re off to a bad start. I’m Ratchet.”

Knockout considered him for a long moment before flashing him a purposefully charming smile.

“I’m Knockout,” he replied with a flourish of his servo. “I’m a doctor.”

“You’re—what?”

Breakdown scratched the back of his neck, saying, “His name’s actually Noc–”

“Knockout,” the barbarian corrected.

“—and he’s a barbarian doctor, so, you know.”

Ratchet glanced up at the ceiling with a tired sounding ex-vent.

“He’s going to be a terrible patient.”

Breakdown pulled out what he hoped was an endearing grin as he said, “Well, sure, he’s gonna want you to try to explain what you’re doing, but he already picked up some vocab from Hook so it’ll probably be fine.”

Ratchet didn’t even look, just turned and waved his servo to indicate they follow him as he grumbled about being too nice for his own good.

* * *

Breakdown owed Hook endless thanks for patiently teaching Knockout anatomy terms, because despite Ratchet’s dismay, it didn’t take too much time for him to explain what he was doing every step of the way. The doctor flashed a bright light into the wound and with a thin tool indicated each strut, tube, and wire as he talked through what was damaged and how he would repair them.

Or, well, ‘fix’ them. For all that Ratchet had complained, he slipped into simpler vocabulary with ease, reusing the words that Knockout knew over and over so as not to complicate anything.

Which, Primus, even simplified it was complicated for Breakdown to follow. But, at the end, Knockout hemmed and hawed before nodding.

“Yes, you can fix.”

“Glad to know I have your approval,” Ratchet said sarcastically, but he did look relieved as he straightened up. “Alright, I just have to gather some supplies and then we can get started.”

“And you’re gonna implant common, right?”

“You don’t enjoy communicating with a couple dozen words?” With a snort Ratchet continued, “Yes, yes, of course. He’ll be in stasis for the surgery anyway so the datapacket can be downloaded and installed while I work.”

“Great,” Breakdown said, ex-venting with relief. That was going to help address the ever tightening ball his spark was becoming, torn between memories of the stream and how there was no way that Knockout would leave and the simple fact that Knockout had a home and tribe out there waiting for him.

He was so afraid of saying goodbye.

Ratchet paused as he passed Breakdown though, optics focusing on Breakdown’s face.

“Want me to take a look at that for you?”

“Look at wha—oh.” Breakdown reached up to scratch the back of his neck, sheepishly shaking his helm as he remembered the patch over his shattered optic. “Nah, it’s fine. Hook is gonna take care of it for me once he gets a replacement.”

Ratchet’s optics narrowed as grabbed Breakdown by the front of his chest to angle him down and look closer at his good optic.

“I think I have the right type in the back,” Ratchet insisted as he ignored how Breakdown squirmed under his gaze. “If it’s just the optic that’s slagged, I can slip you in after Knockout to replace it. Shouldn’t take very long.”

“That’s really nice of ya to offer, Doc, but uh, I don’t think I can afford that.” When Ratchet’s ridges lifted at that, Breakdown was quick to add, “I have enough for Knockout, so don’t worry ‘bout that! But both of us would probably break the bank so, you know.”

With a curious hum, Ratchet glanced over towards Knockout and then back at Breakdown, optics looking far too knowing for Breakdown’s tastes.

But he let go Breakdown and headed towards the back room.

“Don’t touch anything while I’m gone.”

And as soon as Ratchet was out of sight, Knockout was reaching out for Breakdown, asking, “Ratchet fix your optic?”

“Nah,” Breakdown said as he walked closer to the examination table Knockout was sat on. Knockout was quick to grab his servo. “I told you I was gonna bring you to see a doctor who could fix your leg, and I’m gonna keep that promise. You get fixed first. Hook can always fix my optic later.”

Knockout considered him, his other servo reaching up to cup the side of Breakdown’s helm, thumb carefully tracing the edges of the patch.

“Hook fix you soon?”

“Dunno. I mean – I don’t know, but hopefully it will be soon.”

Knockout gave him a disapproving look.

“ _Will_  be soon,” he insisted, his servo squeezing Breakdown’s. And, despite himself, Breakdown chuckled as his spark warmed.

“I appreciate the concern, but I’ll be ok. I’ll get you up and walking first, and then we can figure out what to do about my optic.” Knockout’s optics narrowed and that only made Breakdown smile more. “You first. Then me.”

“Breakdown–”

“No arguing,” Breakdown interrupted, spark only growing warmer at seeing how concerned Knockout was. “I said I’m gonna take care of you, and that’s what I’m gonna do.” When Knockout still looked unconvinced, Breakdown added, “I  _want_ to take care of you.”

And wasn’t that the truth at the end of the day. Promises were one thing, but Breakdown wanted with all his spark to make sure Knockout was healthy and happy.

And, to Breakdown’s surprise, that finally quieted the barbarian. Those crimson optics searched his face and, slowly, Knockout’s expression softened and something new pulled at his optic ridges.

“You want to take care of me?”

“Yeah.”

His servo traced the angles of Breakdown’s face, then down his neck along the thin plating and the small gaps in between.

“Still want me?”

Breakdown felt heat flood his face, but he nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

Knockout smiled, though it wobbled as his servo slipped around to the back of Breakdown’s neck, pulling him down and in towards him. Knockout’s lips were gentle as he kissed Breakdown, moving slowly, tenderly,  _intimately_ —

“I want you,” was admitted against Breakdown’s mouth, quiet and full of more emotions than Breakdown could identify, and his spark swelled until he would swear he was choking on it. Knockout was staring at him, optics bright and his lips curling back into that soft and impossibly warm smile, and then he laughed sweetly as he repeated, “I want you, Breakdown.”

Nothing could have kept Breakdown from kissing Knockout silly, from holding him close while Knockout grinned and wrapped his arms around Breakdown’s shoulders to keep him there, murmuring the phrase over and over—

“Sorry to intrude.”

–Except the utterly unapologetic voice of Ratchet.

Breakdown’s optics onlined instantly as he broke away, already stammering out apologies while Knockout snickered and Ratchet rolled his optics while pushing the cart of supplies over, not looking the least bit surprised.

“It’s fine, just save it for once you’re both out of my clinic, would you? Mecha these days, I swear.”

It was hard to feel guilty though when Knockout had his digits intertwined with Breakdown’s and he kept looking up at him with such a gleeful look on his face, sneaking kisses to Breakdown’s knuckles here and there before Ratchet snapped at him. Even then, Knockout just snickered again as he finally let go of Breakdown so that Ratchet could start hooking up medical cables.

Breakdown wasn’t even sure what had happened, what it meant to the barbarian, but his spark was eager to mirror the excitement and affection.

There was no proof, no reason to believe it, not until they talked—

But Breakdown’s spark was finally at ease because it was certain that Knockout was going to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright gang, unless something goes wrong, the next chapter will be the last one. Conversations will finally be had and miscommunications corrected and perhaps love will bloom???
> 
> And I just want y'all to know that I'm so so humbled by all your comments and support of this fic. I haven't gotten to replying to the comments on the last chapter because I was just so overwhelmed by the kindness and excitement you all have regarding what was, in my mind, a silly little fluff fic. And what can I, a little bundle of easily flustered shyness, even think to say in the face of such warm words?
> 
> But those comments (and kudos, i haven't forgotten you!) have absolutely kept me motivated and excited about said silly fluff fic.
> 
> So thank you all so much. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that you will be happy with the next.
> 
> (that all said, let me ruin this sappy moment by confessing to you all that it was only while writing this chapter that I realized I was spelling Praxus wrong. Well, slightly wrong, since Praxis is an acceptable alternative spelling, but I nearly died all the same, haha. I blame it on the teachers' test by the same name. I'm keeping the spelling because I'm absolutely not going to fix the whole fic, but uh. Yeah. I just felt I had to make this confession to you all that I've been in the fandom for a year and a half and that whole time thought it was spelled Praxis. Oops.)


	11. Chapter 11

“First time shopping for clothes, huh?”

Breakdown’s optics snapped up to find a red minibot wearing a blue wrap standing on the booth’s table, servo wrapped around one of the corner beams to lean towards Breakdown as the little mech grinned slyly at him. The minibot’s accent was one that Breakdown couldn’t place, not sounding like any he had heard in the cities he had been to. Before he even had a chance to reply, a nearly identical helm popped up. In fact, the only difference was that the second minibot had a blue paintjob.

“Ooh, a first timer?” The second minibot clambered onto the table as well, his red wrap not slowing him down at all. Even on the stand, the two of them didn’t reach Breakdown’s optics, but that didn’t seem to intimidate them at all.

“He was looking at the skirts like they were gonna sit up and bite him,” Red said to Blue’s delight.

Breakdown could hardly disagree, truth be told. Not that he had any time to get a word in edgewise before Blue leaned in, saying, “Aww, don’t be afraid, big guy! We can help you find something stylish  _and_ in your size!”

“Uh.” Breakdown blinked as he tried to gather his thoughts. Once Knockout had been put into stasis, Ratchet had shooed him out of the room, insisting he find something to do with himself for the next couple of hours and leave the healing to him. Needing something to occupy his processor with, Breakdown had decided to see if he couldn’t find a replacement for the dingy towel that Knockout had had wrapped around his waist.

After nearly an hour wandering the various street markets, Breakdown had finally spotted the stall. The tables were covered in neatly folded clothes of all sorts of colors and textures, and beams created overhead rows where yet more fabric was hung to billow with the breeze. The thin mech that Breakdown had assumed was running the booth on his own had been talking with another customer, so Breakdown thought he’d have a chance to just browse, see if he couldn’t glean some sort of knowledge by just looking at the fabric.

But no. It was all very pretty, but that was as far as Breakdown could figure. There seemed to be categories for different types of garments and they had signs stating what they were, but the words were meaningless to Breakdown. He didn’t even have the greatest optic for color, so Breakdown couldn’t even just start there. Would Knockout want something red? But what if it was the wrong shade? Grey? Black? Gold?

Now, faced with two minibots staring at him with nearly predatory grins, Breakdown felt both lost  _and_ concerned.

Maybe buying a gift had been a terrible idea.

“It’s, uh, it’s not for me,” Breakdown finally managed.

Twin optics widened with interest.

“Ooh, looking to court a barbarian, huh?”

“Strong mech like you shouldn’t have problems with the grabbing, but I could see how you might want help on the softer side of things,” Blue said as he considered Breakdown seriously.

“No point in catch and carry if you can’t keep ‘em with your personality,” Red agreed, acting deadly serious even as his twin snorted.

Breakdown was positive he was being made fun of, and that irritation only added to the burning embarrassment that came with realizing what they meant.

“I’m not matenapping anybody!” Breakdown argued, his engine rumbling in warning. “And I don’t appreciate you suggesting I would!”

Blue looked at Red who shrugged.

“An idiot  _and_  boring.”

“No sense of romance.”

Breakdown’s engine growled properly this time. However, there was no chance to follow through on any arguments when a monotone voice interrupted sternly, “Rumble, Frenzy: desist.”

“But boss!”

“We’re just teasing!”

If the mech was moved, Breakdown wouldn’t have known since the shopkeeper had a full face visor. Up close he looked even thinner. Most of his frame was covered in a loose tunic, but his arms were bare, thin and more blades than anything, and his digits were impossibly slim as they unfurled to wave the two minibots off. And, surprisingly, the twins scrambled off the table, though they did grumble under their ex-vents. Soon after, a pair of flying mechanimals swooped towards them, but judging from the giggles that brought, they seemed to know the creatures.

“Apologies,” the shopkeeper said, bringing Breakdown’s attention back to his featureless visor. “Seeking a gift?”

“Yeah,” Breakdown replied, at once finding himself trapped again in the awkwardness of not knowing what he was doing. If the shopkeeper noticed his discomfort though, he didn’t comment on it, just waited patiently. “Crew and I picked up a mech on our way here and he’s just been wearing my drying towel for a few days now, so I figured I should pick him up some actual clothes, you know?”

With a small nod, the mech further asked, “A barbarian?”

“Yeah. I mean, who else would wear clothes?”

“Two small religious sects,” the mech answered easily, “and some citymecha seeking alternative fashion choices.”

“Oh.” Breakdown grimaced, worrying he had somehow offended. “Sorry, you one of those then or–”

“No.”

“Uh, then you’re a bar–”

“No.” Breakdown would have sworn the slightest shifting of light in the mech’s visor was humor.

“Soundwave’s a translator!” one of the minibots interrupted, popping his helm up above the table’s edge with one of the flyers perched on top. “He’s got a crazy big processor for language and has pretty much all of them rattling around in there now.”

And, of course, the second minibot wasn’t far behind with his own flyer, pride clear as day on his face as he added, “He’s been to all the cities and met every tribe we’ve ever heard of and more! So he’s pretty much the smartest  _and_ coolest mech you’ll ever meet.”

“We’re barbarians though.”

“Cassette tribe, and don’t forget it!”

“Enough.”

The twins snapped their mouths shut petulantly.

Breakdown stared at the odd little group of mecha before glancing around at the stall. “So then this is, what, something you do to fill the time between jobs?”

There was that flicker again as Soundwave nodded.

So. A citymech with barbarian connections who was a contract worker.

Breakdown felt his spark finally ease as he said, “Then it sounds like you’re just the mech I need to help me try to figure out what the frag to buy.”

With an easy nod, Soundwave asked, “Do you know his style preference?”

“No. I mean, he wears my towel wrapped between his legs and then around his hips, but that might just be because that’s all I had. His clothes had already been taken from him before we met him and his tribe.”

“Tribe name?”

Breakdown had to take a moment to think on that before answering, “Is Velocitron a tribe?”

Identical pairs of optics blew out wide.

“A Velocitron?!” the twins squealed in unison.

“Is he beautiful? They’re supposed to be real bright and pretty!”

“And  _fast_! How did you manage to catch him?”

“Yeah! They’re about the toughest mecha you could try to court, and super rare nowadays!”

“Is he in the city with you? Can we meet him?!”

“We’ve never met an actual Velocitron before!”

“You’re so slagging lucky!”

With another wave of Soundwave’s servo, Frenzy and Rumble quieted, though they practically vibrated with energy now. The interruption couldn’t have come at a better time since Breakdown was pretty sure he had somehow managed to, yet again, step his pede into something he did  _not_ understand.

But Airachnid had said something vaguely similar. She seemed so focused on the fact that Knockout was a Velocitron–

With a quick motion, Soundwave laid out a neatly folded bundle of fabric.

“This style and fabric preferred by Velocitron tribe,” Soundwave explained simply. “Short so it does not impede running and fabric type allows airflow to assist in faster frame cooling.”

Breakdown gingerly reached out to touch the bundle. The texture was smooth and thin compared with some of the other fabrics around the booth, and when Breakdown unfurled it he found that unlike the tunic that Soundwave wore or some of the other options on the table, it was actually similar in dimension and simplicity to Breakdown’s towel. Longer in length and narrower in width, but Breakdown could only assume that it was meant to be worn similarly to how Knockout had worn the towel.

It was nice. Beautiful even in a weird way. Certainly it would be a better fit for Knockout. Breakdown couldn’t help imagining how much nicer it would look, laying smoothly across the curves of Knockout’s hips and thighs instead of adding bulk like that old towel. Primus, he hoped that Knockout would like it, might even smile when it was handed to him like he had when he first put on that towel–

“Black only color currently available,” Soundwave continued, pulling Breakdown from his thoughts. “More colors and fabrics can be sought if desired in the future.”

“Nah, no worries,” Breakdown said, the grin he hadn’t realized had bloomed on his face turning sheepish as he waved off the offer. “Truthfully this just makes it easier for me since I wasn’t sure what color to get. So this will be perfect. How much is it?”

“I mean, that’s a pretty rare item,” one twin started, his predatory grin mirrored on his twin’s face. However, neither of them got in another word as Soundwave shook his helm.

“A gift,” Soundwave stated, “for your mate.”

Breakdown’s spark whirled madly.

“Oh, no, he’s not—it’s not like that!” he insisted, flustered as he shook his helm.

The twins rolled their optics while Soundwave’s helm tilted with curiosity.

“He is a barbarian you separated from his tribe and brought with your own, correct?”

“But I didn’t kidnap him!” Breakdown argued, at once indignant again at the accusation. After seeing how Airachnid and her tribe treated Knockout, Breakdown would never let anyone do that to the barbarian, let alone do so himself. “I didn’t force him to come here with me or anything! He could leave if he wanted–”

“Idiot,” the twins echoed, their tone bored. Breakdown’s frown deepened as he glowered at them.

“Not accusing matenapping,” Soundwave explained, tone still as even as ever, apparently not at all concerned with upsetting Breakdown. “Matenapping and barbarian courtship practices often confused, but are not equivalent.”

“They’re—they’re not the same thing?” Breakdown asked, doing his best to focus on Soundwave instead of the small barbarians silently mocking him.

“No. Matenapping equivalent to kidnapping and slavery. Barbarian courtship involves catching a potential mate to exhibit physical traits, then bringing them to the courter’s tribe, using travel time to exhibit further traits that prove the courter will be a good mate and the new tribe a good match. Potential mate may end courtship and return to their tribe at any time.”

Breakdown felt realization dawning unbidden.

“Wait. Really?”

“I can’t believe an idiot citymech like you managed to accidentally court a  _Velocitron_ ,” one twin grumbled bitterly while the other nodded in agreement.

Soundwave however asked, “Courtship not discussed?”

“No. I mean, we don’t really speak the same language yet—there’s no way he—sorry, I should probably go,” Breakdown stammered, gathering up the fabric in his servos. “You sure I can just–?”

“Gift,” Soundwave insisted.

“You’ll need it,” one twin agreed.

“Thanks,” Breakdown said to Soundwave as he shoved his prize away and turned to leave. However, he only got a step or two before spinning back around and catching Soundwave’s gaze. After a moment of considering and reconsidering, Breakdown asked, “You don’t happen to know what a barithi is, do you?”

That left the minibots stumped, but there was no mistaking the amused flicker of Soundwave’s visor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can probably guess, turns out the last chapter will be last two chapters. I could have shoved it all into one chapter, but I felt this was better used as a short standalone chapter. Plus I know that there's some of you lovelies who haven't actually read barbarian AUs before, and while I'm beyond honored to be the first and possibly only for you, this fic /was/ written based on the assumption that the readers knew the matenapping trope therein and how I reversed it here, haha. So hopefully this is helpful to those of you who aren't familiar with the tropes inherent to barbarian AUs.
> 
> The actual last chapter is also finished though and will be posted tomorrow or Friday. I hope you're looking forward to it and good lord do I hope y'all enjoy it.
> 
> And goshhhh thank you all for your comments and kudos and--gosh i love y'all.
> 
> Also, I wrote a little drabble the other day for this AU which can be found over yonder on my blog:
> 
> http://roseymoseyberry.tumblr.com/post/165286893688/barbarian-au-swindleblurr


	12. Chapter 12

Breakdown kept getting turned around, walking on autopilot until his GPS finally shrieked at him, dragging him from his roiling processor long enough to get back on the right path. It was only a matter of moments before he was lost again, in thoughts and busy streets.

A suitor.

All this time Breakdown had been worried about if Knockout might want to consider dating him. Yet now Breakdown had to face to possibility that Knockout had thought the last five days had been a courtship, and that Breakdown was a suitor!

Worst still was the fact that for all that his processor whirled wildly, Breakdown’s spark seemed unbothered, still as contented as it had been since that moment that Knockout had murmured “I want you” against his lips.

Oh, sure, it raced. But it didn’t twist with anxiety or panic. At best, Breakdown could call it excited.

And, well, maybe it was right to be. After all, Breakdown thought to himself, suitor wasn’t a completely inaccurate term. He did like Knockout a  _lot_ – in his more honest moments he could admit that he was falling, had even said the word “love” in that moment of passion at the stream. And Breakdown knew he hated letting go of mecha he cared about, would want this to ideally lead to something permanent.  The idea of someday bonding with Knockout was a  _very_ pleasant one.

But the keyword was someday.

They had only known each other for five days!

Breakdown should have stayed at that clothing shop. He had made a speedy escape the second that Soundwave translated for him, his face burning hot to the touch in his fluster, but now Breakdown had only his own thoughts. Soundwave would have known more about what Knockout might be thinking, would be able to give Breakdown advice as another citymecha who knew more about barbarians than Breakdown did.

Instead, Breakdown was finally standing outside the clinic and his servos fisted nervously at his sides.

Most embarrassingly of all, Breakdown had already started to miss Knockout. It had only been hours, but that was hours more than they had been apart since meeting.

He was so fragged.

With a deep in-vent, Breakdown gathered up his courage and went through the door. No point in thinking on it forever. He wasn’t a smart mech, wasn’t meant to just think himself into circles – he was a mech of action and he would face whatever the truth ended up being.

As expected, the waiting room was empty, so Breakdown kept on walking down the hall. As he did, he heard voices. The first was Ratchet’s, but the second—

“—So the crystalline structures focus all that light into a singular focused – what did you call it? A laser, right, of course. I absolutely need to try my servos at using one of these–”

Breakdown knew that deep melodic voice and felt a shock race across his circuits, his pedes picking up their pace.

And there was Knockout. His expression was easy and his leg was no longer braced, and he appeared to be talking at Ratchet while the doctor tried to put all his tools away. And he was talking  _common_ with an ease that Breakdown had never heard.

And then Knockout finally caught him out of the corner of his optic, and the barbarian’s face lit up as he spun on his aft to face Breakdown.

“There you are, Breakdown! You were starting to make me worry you had gotten lost out there, and Bonecrusher would never forgive me if I lost you.”

Every concern and doubt was overwhelmed by the wonderful aching of Breakdown’s spark as he felt his face nearly split in half from his own grin. He was across the room in seconds and Knockout’s servos were in his before Breakdown could even question who had reached out first—

“Don’t you dare,” Ratchet warned and Breakdown couldn’t help choking as Knockout rolled his optics to the ceiling, their mouths halfway towards meeting for a kiss.

“Do you have a single romantic strut in your frame?” Knockout drawled in complaint, even as his lips curled at the corners for Breakdown.

“Not a one.”

Knockout’s laugh was gorgeous.

The swelling of Breakdown’s spark nearly choked him with glee as he murmured, “Wow. I just—I can’t believe we’re actually talking now.”

“You’re telling me. If I had known it was going to be this easy to become fluent, I might not have tried so hard this whole time,” Knockout replied before shrugging. “But, then again, it was so cute to watch you try to explain things to me. I don’t know that I would have traded that for anything.” And then Knockout’s grin was turning sly as he no doubt noticed the way Breakdown squirmed, optics darting away before returning. “Mmm, but then again, it’ll be even easier to fluster you now.”

“Menace,” Breakdown grumbled to Knockout’s delight.

“Come now. Surely you can do better than that now that I can understand.”

“I think I can come up with a few things.”

“You don’t say–”

“I will physically separate the two of you if it becomes necessary,” Ratchet snapped when the two of them had shifted closer again. Knockout pouted but Breakdown was embarrassed enough that he straightened up completely, hoping that distance between them would help stave off temptation.

“Oh, uh, I got you something,” Breakdown said, taking the chance to let go of Knockout’s servos and reach into his subspace. “It’s the only color they had, but the guy said it should be the kind you like.”

Knockout’s optics lit up the moment he saw the fabric, snatching it out of Breakdown’s grasp in the blink of an optic, stretching it out between his servos as he inspected it.

“Where did you  _find_ this?” Knockout asked, almost sounding awed as the fabric stretched when he tugged it. “It’s been centuries since I last saw this type of fabric available for trade, and so finely made too. Hold on, help me down so I can put it on–”

“Stay on the berth!” Ratchet snapped, though Knockout didn’t even blink as he took Breakdown’s servo and slipped down onto his pedes.

“Oh hush! The welds have solidified enough to handle standing.”

Ratchet harrumphed, muttering about terrible patients, but he finished packing up his supplies and was pushing the cart back where it came from.

“Are you sure you’re ok?”

“I’m just fine,” Knockout insisted as he shifted from one pede to the other and grinned. “Don’t tell Ratchet, but he’s a miracle worker. A couple more hours and I’ll be good as new and better.” Breakdown ex-vented with relief, glad to see the barbarian standing on both legs, moving them easily as he started to wrap the cloth around his hips. “And it’s all thanks to you.”

A rush of flattered heat filled Breakdown as he stammered, “I dunno about that.”

“Don’t give me that humble act,” Knockout teased, glancing down to pull out his emblem and pin the new wrap into place. “If it hadn’t been for you, I’d still be chained up and walking towards a living nightmare.” The clothing held, and after a quick sweep of his servos down it to appreciate how it fell on his frame, Knockout was looking up again, optics bright and smile soft. “Needless to say I much prefer being here with you.”

Breakdown’s spark ached pleasantly, but his processor raced with the sudden reminder that now they could talk, now he could have his questions answered, including the new ones that seemed surreal to believe.

His servos reached out to grasp Knockout’s, and it still excited Breakdown to see how easily the barbarian accepted it, slipping digits between his.

“Do you – do you want to stay here?” Breakdown asked, not meaning for his voice to be so quiet and hesitant. It felt like a confession, as if his every thought and wish over the last few days had finally escaped his spark for Knockout’s judgement.

Knockout smirked up at him.

“Being able to bend my knee against hasn’t magically changed my mind, no,” he said, tone mocking but not unkind as his servos squeezed. When Breakdown just looked down at him, ridges furrowing in confusion, the smirk slipped as Knockout continued, “Don’t look at me like that. I already told you before the surgery.”

“Uh, you mean about wanting me?”

“Clearly. What part of ‘I want you’ wasn’t–” Knockout stopped, helm tilting, optics dimming. “Oh. That  _is_  a pretty ambiguous thing to say in your language, isn’t it?”

“Kinda, yeah,” Breakdown admitted as anticipation began to itch under his plating. It only grew when Knockout let go of his servos to reach up and cup his helm, pulling him close.

“Well, that’s annoying, but easily solved since I can now make myself perfectly clear.” Knockout shifted up onto the tips of his pedes so that their lips were close. “Yes, Breakdown, now that the courtship period is over, I can tell you that you’ve won me over.” Digits gently trailed across the angles of Breakdown’s cheeks and Knockout smiled wide as he shifted closer yet. “I want to stay here with you and become your mate.”

Breakdown’s spark felt as if it was going to break out of his chest.

“Really? Like, now?” Breakdown stammered.

“I assumed we could find somewhere more private first,” Knockout teased as he nuzzled Breakdown’s cheek, his engine lightly purring. “I don’t think Ratchet will appreciate walking in on that.”

Breakdown awkwardly let his servos rest on Knockout’s waist and rebooted his vocalizer twice before managing, “So, just to make sure, what does becoming mates mean to you?”

“The same thing it means in your language, if this translation program is any good. Surely I don’t have to explain spark merging to you.” Knockout’s petting and snickering and just being so close and practically wrapped around Breakdown as best he could had Breakdown’s frame heating up. Worst still was his spark which hammered against its casing, trying to escape, to follow through with this insane idea.

It was only Breakdown’s processor that was shrieking protests.

“Are—are you sure?”

With an irritated ex-vent, Knockout unfurled enough to be face-to-face with Breakdown again, frowning at him.

“Breakdown, could you at least try to be more excited about this? You successfully courted me, so act like it,” Knockout scolded.

“Well, see, that’s the thing,” Breakdown started, his servos flexing on Knockout’s waist. “I didn’t actually know that I was courting you.”

Knockout stared at him blankly.

“What?”

Breakdown grimaced, glancing away as he said, “I honestly was just bringing you here to get your leg fixed. I mean, you saved my spark during that fight, and because of that you were in danger, so I couldn’t just leave you, you know? And then it turned out we got along way better than I could have ever expected, and–”

“Is this a joke?” Knockout asked, his expression twisting with horror.

“No? I mean, I don’t—that’s not really how we do it in the cities, so I never thought–”

Knockout put a digit to Breakdown’s lips, and when Breakdown didn’t stop, “—I didn’t know–” the barbarian’s whole servo covered his mouth.

“Shut up,” Knockout snapped as, other than the one servo muffling Breakdown, he stepped back, helm bent so Breakdown couldn’t make out his expression.

“Knockout–”

“I said shut up!”

The barbarian’s plating clamped down tight, nearly managing to hide how it shuddered. However, nothing could hide the slight hitching of Knockout’s ventilation or clattering of armor.

Then, with one last ex-vent, Knockout’s frame stilled. He removed his servo and looked up, his expression composed and confident and casual, and it hurt Breakdown to see that fakeness aimed at him. “That’s unfortunate, but language and cultural barriers are what they are, I suppose,” Knockout said with a forced shrug as he moved to slip around Breakdown. “Well then, if we’re done here, I’ll just say my thanks and be on my way then.”

“W-wait–!”

“I’m sure I can find my way just fine so you don’t have to escort me,” Knockout continued, optics looking anywhere but Breakdown’s face as he was stepped towards the hall leading back to the front of the clinic.

Breakdown spun and followed, insisting, “That’s not the problem! Just let me explain–”

“You made yourself quite clear.” Knockout’s steps quickened and for a moment Breakdown panicked. If the barbarian had anything close to the speed of his tribemates now that he was healed, there was no way that Breakdown would be able to catch up to him once he was out that door.

Breakdown’s spark surged and without a second thought, Breakdown sprinted past Knockout, his pedes sliding along the smooth clinic floor until his back hit the front door and his arms were outstretched, barricading the exit. The barbarian’s optics flared as he stopped, trapped between wanting to escape and keeping his distance from Breakdown.

“Move.”

“No,” Breakdown said with a shake of his helm. “I’m not done yet.”

“Oh, I think you’re quite done!” Knockout sneered, his servos fisted at his sides and trembling. “I’m utterly humiliated, so I would rather we skip the part where you feel bad and try to feel better by pitying me, alright? You’re so sorry, you didn’t know, you only wanted to frag the pretty Velocitron and didn’t mean to hurt its feelings, blah blah blah,  _move_.”

Breakdown tanks twisted as he shook his helm. “I didn’t – you shouldn’t feel that way, you couldn’t have known–”

“Do you have any idea how many mecha have courted me?” Knockout interrupted, armor flared out aggressively. “How many mecha have tried and failed to impress me? And then some citymech comes swinging into my life, sweet and smiling and giving me everything I could ask for, and in just five days convinces me that yes, you’re the one I’ll give my spark, and  _you don’t even want it_!” Knockout’s voice was becoming shrill with emotion as he finally stalked towards Breakdown, servos slashing the air between them as his optics flickered. “So yes, Breakdown, I  _am_ humiliated, and–”

There wasn’t a thought that passed Breakdown’s processor before his spark willed him into action, stepping forward and pulling Knockout against him, hugging him close—

“I do want you–”

“—But not as your mate, you made that clear _–_!”

“—No, I didn’t know I was courting you, but listen–”

“—Just let me leave–!”

“Stay here!” Breakdown asked, begged really, feeling choked by his spark. That finally had Knockout stilling again, quiet, and Breakdown took what might be his last chance. “I was going to ask you that before finding out about, well, all of this, you know? When I thought this was just a thing, a  _really_ good thing, but just something that happened and that you might just be having fun before going back to your tribe, and I—I wanted to ask you to stay here. With me.”

Knockout’s servos were warm against Breakdown’s chest and his ex-vents haggard.

“What does that even mean?” Knockout’s voice was disbelieving but oddly small, especially considering the volumes their argument had reached, and his face was hidden against Breakdown’s chest. But he didn’t try to pull away.

“I don’t know exactly. Figured we’d deal with the details if you actually agreed to stay.” A hollow chuckle forced its way out as Breakdown admitted, “This is a pretty terrible time for you to find this out, but I’m not a great planner. Just kinda follow my crew and my spark and hope for the best. But I promise I’ll make it work if you stay.”

Then, miraculously, Knockout snickered. It was weak and a hint of static clung to it, but it was a chuckle.

“You really are an idiot,” Knockout murmured as he leaned against Breakdown. “Makes two of us, I suppose.”

“I dunno about that. You’re pretty smart.”

“And yet here I am, in love with a citymech who wasn’t even trying to court me,” Knockout said with bitter self-deprecation as he finally lifted his helm. His optics flickered as they cycled, and there were the rest of the emotions that had been hidden under fake confidence and too real anger – hurt and embarrassment and that fear that Breakdown remembered seeing that night Knockout asked to kiss him.

A fear of losing something, or  _someone_.

Breakdown’s servos moved up Knockout’s back to cradle his helm.

“Maybe I don’t want to bond with you yet, but it’s only been five days,” Breakdown said, forcing a small smile onto his face as his forehelm touched Knockout’s. “I mean, I don’t know how it works for you guys, but for citymecha that’s an insanely short amount of time.”

“It  _is_  shorter than the usual,” Knockout admitted. “Typically a courtship lasts at least twice that – what? What’s that look for?”

Breakdown rebooted his vocalizer before saying, “We usually date for at least a couple years before discussing spark merging.”

That had Knockout’s optics blowing out wide, shock momentarily drowning out the other emotions on his face as he stepped back.

“ _Years_?” he hissed. “How the blazes could it take  _years_?”

“Well, it takes a while to really get to know everything about another mech, so it takes at least that long to figure out if you could live with each other for the rest of your lives,” Breakdown explained with a shrug. “Can you honestly say you would know for sure that you wanted to bond with someone after just a couple weeks?”

“I was quite sure about you, wasn’t I?” Knockout said, simply and confidently.

Breakdown felt his face flush as he continued to push, “But you just met me five days ago. You barely know me!”

“I know the important things,” Knockout insisted, gesturing at Breakdown with his servo. “I know that you’re good in a fight and that you’re capable and willing to use the strength to literally carry me for days if necessary. I know that you’re also incredibly empathetic and compassionate, constantly striving to do everything you can for me, even when it meant making those ridiculous gestures to guess what I wanted.” Knockout stepped back in, his servos gentle against Breakdown’s chest. “I know you care about your tribe and in turn they care about you, and it would be an honor to be a part of that.”

There was no way that Knockout wouldn’t be able to feel the fierce pulsing of Breakdown’s spark as Breakdown reached down, putting his own servos over the barbarian’s. “Knockout–”

“Ah ah! I’m not finished,” Knockout scolded, and finally, his lips were curling into a smirk, determination glittering in his optics. “I’ve spent as long as months travelling with some suitors, and they never managed to come close to what you’ve proven in five days. I know that I’m safe with you,” – Knockout leaned in closer until they were chest to chest – “and that not only  _will_ you take care of me, but that you  _want_ to.” Knockout’s servos slid over the angle of Breakdown’s chest, slowly finding their way up to his shoulders. “You’re wickedly handsome and love it when I tease you.” Breakdown let himself be pulled down, helpless to Knockout’s charm as the barbarian’s servos wrapped around the back of his neck. “And given the way you kiss, I don’t think I’ll ever have to worry about being satisfied.”

“Knockout,” Breakdown ex-vented, flustered, and Knockout smiled, placing a digit against Breakdown’s lips.

“And the more I think about it, the more the fact that you were that impressive without even trying to prove yourself only makes me want you that much more.” Knockout shifted up to the fronts of his pedes, and Breakdown could feel his ex-vents against his face. “I may not know  _everything_  about you right now, Breakdown, but I will, and I’ll like what I find. You’re everything I’ve looked for in a mate, and I want you, so why wouldn’t I make you mine as soon as I can?”

“I–” Breakdown hesitated, caught between the way his spark sang its agreement and longing and the way his processor raced because that wasn’t right, Knockout didn’t know him, wouldn’t like what he found. “I’m just a construction bot. I get by, but I don’t think I could support us both and take care of you like you deserve.”

“Because of shanix?” Knockout asked, shrugging it off. “It’s a savage economic system, but it’s the one your cities use, so I’ll help, of course.”

Breakdown blinked. “But you just said you like that I take care of you.”

“Of course I do, but courtship only goes one way by virtue of being a courtship. But now we’re discussing a partnership,” Knockout explained as he gently poked a digit against Breakdown’s chest. “I already told Ratchet I was staying and he offered to have me work here as his assistant, and I’ll make sure he, ah—pays me? That’s how it works, right?” When Breakdown just nodded dumbly, Knockout grinned and continued, “So there, problem solved.”

“But I don’t really have a home or a tribe. The crew is all I have, and I’m constantly moving for work. It’s honestly a miracle I get to actually stay here for two years.”

“Breakdown,” Knockout said, almost patronizingly, “Velocitrons are nomadic. The closest thing we had to a home was destroyed years ago. So, truthfully, two years already sounds like a terribly long time to spend in one place.”

“Ok, but then, your tribe–”

“—Has been splintering and dissolving since Navitas fell, so it was a matter of time before I had to pick another tribe to join anyway. And I happen to think that your ‘crew’ is the best I’ve come across yet.”

“But–”

The digit was back against his lips as Knockout rolled his optics.

“You promised we’d figure it out, didn’t you?” When Breakdown slowly nodded, Knockout grinned and said, “Then relax. Any bumps we come across we’ll get over together. That’s the point of being mates after all, isn’t it?”

Breakdown knew he was slack-jawed, staring down at Knockout, but he couldn’t help it.

This could work.

 _They_  could work.

“So?”

Knockout was looking up at him expectantly, optic ridges lifted as he removed his digit.

And, finally, Breakdown’s processor relinquished to his spark.

“I still don’t think I can spark merge so soon,” Breakdown admitted as his servos move to grasp Knockout with practiced ease and lift him up into his arms. Knockout yelped, digits digging into Breakdown’s shoulders, and Breakdown took the opportunity to nuzzle into the barbarian’s neck, grinning. “But if I could fall in love with you in five days, I don’t think it will take me very long to catch up if you’re willing to wait.”

Knockout hummed, exaggerated and overly dramatic as his digits drummed against Breakdown’s back plates. “I suppose waiting a year wouldn’t be  _complete_  torture. You’ll have to let me live with you though.”

“Obviously,” Breakdown said as he kissed the junction between neck and jaw and Knockout shivered. “If you don’t mind sharing a berth.”

“Well, I am already rather used to recharging with you wrapped around me.” Knockout did still for a moment and asked, suddenly serious, “Does that mean you want to wait to interface too?”

“Frag no,” Breakdown replied with a growl of his engine and Knockout laughed.

“Oh thank Navitas. I could have done it, but that might have tipped the scale towards actual torture.” Knockout bracketed Breakdown’s helm, pulling him away from his neck and smiling down at him. “So. You still want me?”

Breakdown’s spark felt full enough to fill his whole frame.

“Yeah, I want you. And you still want to stay here?”

Knockout was close enough now that their lips nearly touched as he spoke.

“Yes, I want to stay with you.”

It took only the slightest tilting of helms for them to kiss—

“Are the two of you finally done making a scene now?”

–And then Knockout was groaning in exasperation as Breakdown burned with embarrassment, staring with wide optics at the irritated doctor watching from the hallway.

“Oh hush, you,” Knockout said with a wave in Ratchet’s direction as he shot a look over his shoulder, his other servo holding onto Breakdown like a vice, making it perfectly clear he was  _not_ to put him down. “If it bothered you that much you would have interrupted ages ago. Now put the grouch act to rest for a couple minutes and just let me kiss my mate-to-be, would you?”

Ratchet’s frown deepened, but he did push off the wall and unfold his arms, replying, “Fine. You have two minutes before I’m breaking it up for good, understand? Then you’re paying your bill, taking your optic, and finding yourself some privacy in the decency of your own home.”

“My—wait, what optic?” Breakdown stammered.

“Oh, he’s giving you a replacement optic,” Knockout said as he turned back to Breakdown, grinning. “I told him all about what you did for me and he decided to gift it to you. I don’t know what Hook was talking about; Ratchet is even softer than he is.”

“Shut it,” Ratchet snapped, glancing away in what Breakdown would have sworn was embarrassment. “It was just taking up space anyway. And if Hook slags the installation, he  _will_  be the one paying the bill for me to fix it, got it?”

“I’ll be sure to tell him,” Knockout replied distractedly. Breakdown could tell by the way his digits were stroking between the delicate plating of Breakdown’s neck and staring at his lips that the barbarian had already lost interest in the conversation. “Now if you’ll excuse us–”

Knockout captured Breakdown’s mouth in a searing kiss, claiming and giving at once, his arms wrapping around Breakdown’s shoulders tightly as if he had no intentions of letting go.

And Breakdown squeezed just as tight as his spark pulsed with happiness.

* * *

“Whoa, Knockout! You’re already fixed!” Mixmaster shouted, the first to spot Breakdown and Knockout as they turned the corner. Of course, the rest of the gestalt immediately turned their helms, and Bulkhead was downright beaming.

“All fixed up and ready to mingle,” Knockout agreed, smirk only growing wider as the crew stared at him. “What? Don’t tell me you savages don’t know common?”

The constructicons swarmed the barbarian, talking all at once, but Knockout didn’t seem to mind one bit. If anything, he truly flourished under the attention now that he understood it all, eagerly replying quickly enough to actually keep up.

Bulkhead, however, slapped Breakdown on the back. “Nice work, Break. Do we have any shanix to our names?”

Breakdown laughed as he replied, “Surprisingly. I’m pretty sure that the Doc gave us a discount.”

“And that nice new outfit?”

“That’s a long story, actually, so I’ll tell you later,” Breakdown admitted as he scratched the back of his neck. “But I do have something you should know–”

“You’re  _what?!_ ”

Bulkhead looked over at the constructicons who were all bright-visored and astonished, gazes torn between Knockout and shifting over to Breakdown.

Knockout looked exceedingly pleased with himself as he winked at Breakdown.

“I believe the word you would use is engaged.”

Breakdown gave them all sheepish look as now his whole crew stared at him, somewhere between shock and awe.

But when Knockout smiled at him, there was no way for Breakdown to keep the dumb lovestruck grin off his own face.

“Turns out he really is a knockout.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My pals. My friends.
> 
> We’ve made it to the end.
> 
> And I’m still honestly shocked that this fic that I started just to get out of a rut was read and enjoyed by so many of you.
> 
> Thank you all so so so much and I hope you enjoyed this final installment.
> 
> There’s some worldbuilding stuff that I never got around to fully addressing in the fic, so feel free to hit me up with any questions you may have. I'll be replying to comments here (I promise haha) or you can send them my way on my tumblr and I’ll be tagging anything I may get as knockedout (roseymoseyberry.tumblr.com/tagged/knockedout). Also if you're interested, here's my playlist for this fic (warning: it's v gay): https://open.spotify.com/user/roseymoseyberry/playlist/7EX6qxZHkoTLk8WbleEdHq
> 
> Bless you all from the bottom of my nerdy robot loving heart.


End file.
